Brooklyn Nine-Nine (2013–…): Season 3, Episode 21 - Maximum Security - full transcript

[playful music]

♪ ♪

- Ka-blamo, scrubs.

I nailed it.

I solved Captain Holt's
brain teaser

and found the location
of our secret meeting.

The answer?
The broom closet.

In your face.

- In whose face now?
- Yours.

- Gina and I have been here
20 minutes.

- Though my presence
is not puzzle-related.



I just followed Terry
into a dark closet.

- Hey.

You solved the puzzle
before me.

Nerds.

- [scoffs]
They solved it first.

They're the nerds.
I'm cool like you.

- Wait. Where's Captain Holt?
Where's Amy?

- Yeah, she should be
the first one here.

Doesn't she go to, like, an
adult puzzle camp every summer?

- Yes, but please don't
bring that up.

I've been throwing out
her mailers.

- Guys, if those two
aren't here,

I'm thinking we must be
in the wrong place.

- No, trust me, we're
definitely in the right place.



I'm 100% sure about this.

- Well, guess who
solved the puzzle?

- Who?
- We did.

- Oh, we did?

- Yeah, we're
in the wrong place.

[upbeat music]

♪ ♪

- Thank you for all
finally showing up.

Let's recap.
As you know,

Jimmy "The Butcher" Figgis
put out a hit on Adrian Pimento,

which the mob believes
succeeded.

For his safety
Pimento has gone off the grid.

- Remember, the only people
we can trust

with this information
are in this room.

- And Genevieve.
We can trust Genevieve.

We share a life.
I tell her everything.

- Fine, the people in this room,
and Genevieve.

- Genevieve's mom also knows,
but she's in a coma,

dead any second,
we're good.

- Okay.

- Unfortunately, we can't just
arrest Figgis,

because he has a man
inside the FBI.

- The good news is,

we have a lead that's gonna
break this case wide open:

Maura Figgis,
Jimmy's sister.

She's currently serving

in a maximum security prison
in Texas.

- A white woman in prison,
in Texas?

[scoffs]
She must be bad.

- She murdered three people,

and she knows
Figgis's operation,

so we're sending a detective in
undercover as an inmate

to get close to her.

- Yeah, and guys,

this isn't one of those
women's prisons

that we've all seen
being all sexy

on late-night cable.

You know, with the ladies
touching each other's bits,

and there's kind of
some lame jazz playing.

When these chicks fight,
it's for real.

So be mature.

- Peralta is gross,
but correct.

- Mm.

- This facility
is a violent place

filled with
hardened criminals

We need to send someone
who can blend in.

- Sir, I would be honored

to take on
this challenging assignment.

[laughter]

Why is everyone laughing?

I can be a badass.

- You're raising
your hand right now.

- We're in a meeting.

- I just assumed Diaz
would be the prisoner.

Nothing personal,
it's just, you know...

she's terrifying.

- Thank you, Sir.
- Mm-hmm.

Dismissed.

- Hey, that was crazy, right?
I mean, I can be scary.

- Oh, yeah.
I watch "Jeopardy" with you

and you're a straight-up
psycho.

- Aww.
Thanks, babe.

- I'll take "Awesome
Girlfriends" for 500, Alex.

- I know you're being sweet,
but don't disparage "Jeopardy."

- Okay.

[classical music playing]

- All right, listen up.
- [groans]

You're not gonna try to
convince us

Mahler was the original
punk rocker again, are you?

- No, the music is a classic
counter-espionage maneuver.

I don't want
to be overheard.

But, since you mention it,

Mahler was one
in-your-face bad boy.

- Right, um, so,
what's going on, sir?

- Oh, I have a plan

to draw out Figgis's
man in the FBI:

Throw a funeral
for Pimento.

Now, before we,
quote, unquote,

bury Pimento,

we need to, quote, unquote,
open an investigation,

find a, quote, unquote,
corpse,

and obtain a, quote, unquote,
death certificate.

- Kind of feel like
you could have just used

"air quotes."

- I can also wear short pants
and drink for a jug

that says "XXX."

- Fake funeral's
a good idea, sir,

but where are we gonna find
a corpse?

- We don't need one.

We just need pictures
for the case file.

- If I may,

imagine Pimento's
dirty, pale body

being pulled
out of a manhole

after a couple days'
sewer bloat.

- Mm.
- Now squint your eyes...

and look at Hitchcock.

- Oh, yes.

I believe
we've found our corpse.

- You positively glow.

How do you feel?
- Great.

I could smother somebody
in their sleep with this thing.

Pregnancy's dope.

- Whoa, bup, bup, bup.

That big old womb
is not a weapon, okay?

It's just an excuse
to talk to your doctors,

AKA, Charles and me,
in private.

If you need to chat,
just schedule an appointment

with Brent Kennedy,
ob-gyn.

- And I'm Glen Kennedy,
ob-gyn.

We're twins, like
"Property Brothers,"

but for gynecology.

- No, I said no to that idea.
- [sighs]

- You are Isaac Schwartz,
my older Jewish mentor,

and you are
Isabel Cortez.

You're in for
stabbing a man on the subway

46 times
in the trachea.

- Tight.

- The pregnancy stuff
is my area of expertise.

Since Genevieve started
fertility treatments,

it's all we talk about.

Now... show me your waddle.

- Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm, okay.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah.
- Okay, okay, okay.

[with Cockney accent]
Nice.

- Good work.

You really
look like a corpse.

- And I'm not even
wearing makeup.

[camera clicks]

- Time of death: 8:26 p.m.

Now all I have to do
is sign as the coroner.

- You are disturbingly
good at this.

- I grew up
forging report cards.

If people knew
how smart I was,

it would have been harder
to control them.

- Now all we need
is the death certificate

officially notarized.

- You want me to break
the sacred oath I took

to become a notary?

It's not a problem.
'Cause... I'm a badass.

Just like Rosa.

So...

I am going to stamp this,
and...

violate my oath--

- You can keep talking,
but we're done here.

[thuds]

- Adrian Pimento
is officially deceased.

- Excellent.

All this sneaking around
is exhilarating.

I can feel the adrenaline
coursing through my body.

Coursing.

[gate slams]
- Isabel Cortez,

welcome to your new home.

- This is gonna be fun.
- Really?

What are your weekends like,
Diaz?

- All right.
It's time, Detective.

- Don't forget,
you're seven months pregnant.

Your cervix is ripening
as we speak.

- Mention my cervix again
and I will rip your throat out.

- I don't understand.
You don't like it

when he talks about
your cervix ripening?

Okay, have fun.

- They grow up so fast.

[buzzer sounds]

- Okay, fresh meat.

You're being
transferred here

because you made trouble
in your last prison.

That won't fly here.
Stay in your lane.

- Hey.
You're that cop

who arrested me
three years ago in Brooklyn.

- Uh...

- Amy Santiago,

you're going to prison.

- I don't know.
Is anyone gonna buy it?

I mean,
do I look pregnant?

- I mean...

I guess I can see it.

- I think it's amazing.

Oh, Jake and Amy and baby
makes three.

I don't know
if I believe in God,

but I have
prayed for this.

- That is psychotic.
- [chuckles]

- All right, Ames, let's
go over your cover story again.

- [sighs]
Okay.

My name is Isabel Cortez,
I'm in for murder,

'cause some perv on the subway
tried to touch me

and I was like,

"Did someone order
a tracheotomy?"

- Okay, I think that's
a little too technical.

We need to work on your
tough talk.

So, what are you
in for, Cortez?

- None of your
damn business.

- Nice.
Keep going with that.

- I'm gonna split you
like a sundae with Grandpa...

bitch.

Okay.
Okay.

The "bitch" part was great.
- Yeah.

- Although, mean threats
generally don't involve

having desserts
with your grandparents.

So, just try again.

- Keep telling me what to do
and I'll stab your face off.

- Hell yes!
- Damn!

Like that.

- Okay, now,
here's the plan.

Instead of you
approaching Maura,

we're gonna get her
to come to you.

- Yeah,
try and spread the word

that you've got a connect
on the outside

that gives you access
to contrabands:

cigarettes,
burner phones--

- Pornography.

- Amy, women don't watch--

They do.
- Mm.

- Oh, yeah.
- Oh, wow.

- Mm-hmm.
- Huh.

Well, that's an exciting
revelation for me.

- Mm-hmm.
- Huh.

- Sorry prison
didn't work out.

- Eh, I'll find another use
for that shiv.

- Also, I'm sorry
about Pimento.

I mean,
I know how hard it is

to have a fiancé disappear

because the mob and the FBI
want 'em dead.

I mean...

Actually, I can't
relate at all.

It's the saddest story
I ever heard.

Look, you wanna talk,
I'm a good listener.

- There's nothing
to be sad about.

Pimento's gonna come back,
we're gonna get married

and we're gonna have sex
on Figgis's grave

just like we planned.

- Cool honeymoon.
- Mm-hmm.

- Well, since you're not
in prison, you can help us.

We're gonna throw
a fake funeral

to draw out our FBI guy.
- Good plan.

I always thought
it would be funny

to kill somebody
at a funeral. [laughs]

- Also, you're gonna have to
play the grieving fiancé.

- What?
- So you may not be sad,

but you're gonna
need to look it.

- Fine.

Boo hoo.

- Maybe we'll get you
a real thick veil or something.

- Cellmates!
[alarm sounds]

[upbeat music]

- All right,
our camera is up.

We have picture and sound.

Amy should be meeting her
new cellmate any second now.

♪ ♪

- Sup.
- Sup.

- Good, she's abbreviating,
just like we practiced,

even though she hates it.

- She's gonna do just fine.
- Oh, yeah.

I drilled her for hours.
Ew.

I'm sorry, I just realized
what that sounded like.

- It's okay, Jake.
I wish we'd talk like that more.

- No.

- Where you from?

- Passed around the system.

Never stayed anywhere
long enough to call it home.

- Ooh, that's
a good answer.

- Yeah, that one was mine.

I speak the language
of the streets.

It was actually from
"Girl, Interrupted."

- Yeah.

Oh, it's happening.
She dropped the contraband.

- Hey, where you get
that crap?

- I got a hookup
on the outside,

so I can get anything
for a price.

This is yours...

if you can get the word out
about my store.

- Okay, I can do that.

- Cellie for my cellie.

- Oh, no--wordplay?
Abort.

- Cellie?
I get it. Funny.

- Oh, it actually worked.
- Huh.

- People are really starved
for entertainment in here.

- Jail is hell.
- Yeah.

- All that we know about
Figgis's man in the FBI

is that he's a white male
of average height and build,

and according to Jake,
he has a scar on his hand.

- Oh, this is a long-shot,
but if his name is Joe,

could we call him Scar-Joe?

- Scar-Joe.
Never heard that before.

I like it.
We'll use it.

Now, funeral assignments.

Gina and I
will greet people,

shaking hands and checking
for the tell-tale scar.

- Excuse me, sir.

Are you sure you want to be
on the receiving line?

You hate small talk.

- No, I can turn it on
when it's called for.

"The Bachelor"
is a television show, hmm?

Andre Agassi's at it again.

I, too, avoid gluten.

- Okay.

- I want the rest of you
checking out the crowd

for anyone suspicious.

- Oh, I'm sorry.

Am I interrupting?

- No, we just all
came in here separately

and then started chatting,
you know, breezy stuff.

"The Bachelor"
is a television show.

Andre Agassi's at it again.

I, too, am avoiding gluten.

- Do you see Amy?
How is she?

- Great. She just got lunch,
double helping of spinach.

Baby's gonna love
that folic acid.

- You are so strange.

All right, this is her first
time eating in the dining hall.

Where she chooses to sit
is very important.

[alarm blares]

Oh, good, she's headed towards
that table of hot blonde girls.

Wait a minute.
No.

They're Nazis.

The hotties are Nazis.
They're hot-zis.

Swerve, Amy, swerve!

Good, good, good,
good, good, good.

Okay, and...

All right, sitting alone.

Bold choice, bold choice.
- Hmm.

- Oh, here comes Maura.

- Hey, Cortez.

I hear you can smuggle in crap
from outside.

- Noice, it's working.

- That's right, baby.

What do you want?

- What I want...

is for you
to back the hell off...

because I'm the only store
in this prison.

- Uh-oh.

- Well,
I didn't see your name

on the outside
of the prison,

unless your name is

Texas State Penitentiary
Comma Spring Valley Unit.

- Oh, this is bad.

I can't believe
I'm gonna say this,

but she should have sat
with the hot-zis.

[door buzzes]

- Hey, what's going on?

I was talking to Figgis
and then the guard said

I had an appointment.

I'm not supposed to check in
until tomorrow.

People might get suspicious.

- Look, we called you in

because your first contact
with Figgis was a disaster.

- Why? Because our
smuggling plan backfired

and she threatened
to kill me?

- Yes, every single detail
of what you just said.

We need a new plan.
- And I've got one.

I need to step to her.
- Step to her?

Amy, this isn't
"High School Musical."

- Yeah, Amy, this isn't
"High School Musical 2."

- Yeah, and it isn't

"High School Musical 3:
Senior Year."

- All right.

- Point is, it's not
a high school musical.

- That's right.
- I got it.

- Look, Figgis is seriously
dangerous, all right?

She's killed more people
in prison

than she did
on the outside.

- I know,
and if I back down now

she'll never respect me

and we'll get nowhere
with her.

Trust me,
I've got this.

- Okay, I can see
that logic,

but in the interest
of keeping you

as un-shanked as possible,

I think maybe we need a signal
in case things go south.

- Ooh, I know.
Scratch your butt.

- No, that's no good. What if
her butt itches for real?

- I think I can handle it.

I've made it through
20 years of adulthood

without scratching my butt
in public.

- Amy.
- Amy.

- Come on.
- Come on.

both: Come on.

- All right.

- Never?
Ames, come on.

- Come on.

[organ music playing]
- Yo, it's too bad, right?

[chattering]

- Hello, thank you so much
for coming.

High five?

Detective Pimento didn't want
his funeral to feel stuffy.

Condolences, my man.

♪ ♪

- What's going on, sir?

Why are you high-fiving
the bereaved?

- The handshakes
weren't working.

You couldn't see the inside
of the thumb webbing.

Gina came up with
an artful solution.

- I'm very sorry
for your loss.

Get some.

- The system works.

- Any sign of Scar-Joe?

- [sighs]
Not yet.

- [frustrated groan]

I don't know how much more
of this I can take.

All these jerks keep on
asking me how I'm doing.

- This shouldn't be
so difficult.

Your fiancé did really leave.
Just act sad about it.

- Fine, I'll pretend
to be sad.

I'll make myself cry.

Watch:

[loud groan]

- That's not
how this works.

- Or is it?

Suck it, Sarge.

- Hey.

Give me
those 20-pounders.

- Wait your turn,
Baby-Sitters Club.

- No weight lifting.

You can shoot that baby
across the room.

Come on.

- What's going on?
I was stepping to her.

- I know, but it wasn't
a good time.

She was holding
a 20-pound weight.

That's basically
Thor's hammer, babe.

- I can handle myself.
- Cool, yeah.

Just, you know, don't
confront her when she's armed.

- Fine.

[door buzzes]

Seriously? She was at lunch.
She didn't have a weapon.

- She had a fork.

That's like
four tiny shivs on a stick.

[door buzzes]

- What the hell?

- Socks are just a noose
waiting to be braided.

[door buzzes]

- We were playing hearts.

- In the wrong hands,
every playing card

is like a throwing star.

[door buzzes]

- She was alone,
her hands were empty,

and I think she was napping.

So what was the big threat
this time?

- You did the signal.

You scratched your butt.
Right, Boyle?

- Uh, I don't know.
I was focused on her waddle.

Which you are nailing,
by the way.

- [scoffs]

Well, I know for a fact
that I didn't scratch my butt

because my right cheek
was actually itchy

and I fought through it.

I know what's really
going on here.

You don't think
I'm tough enough to do this.

- Okay, you know what?
Fine, you're right, I don't.

But it's only because Maura
is so much more terrifying

than we anticipated.

I mean, she has a
full back tattoo

of herself stabbing a guy.

- He looks like Tom Hanks!

- Yeah, and that's America's
male sweetheart.

- I can't believe this.

You wouldn't tell Rosa
to stand down.

- Well, yeah,
because she's Rosa.

I mean, one time,
I saw her eat a whole apple

using a knife,
just like in the movies.

- Get over the apple thing.
That was three years ago.

- I know, it was just so cool.

Look, I'm your handler,
all right?

You have to just trust me
on this.

My job is to keep you safe.
It's the right call.

- Fine, I'll slow-play it.

But people are getting
suspicious,

so you can't
come running in

every time I'm in the same
room with her, okay?

- Yeah, okay.

Are we good?

- Yeah, we're good.

- This is so sweet.
Now kiss her belly.

- Boyle!
- Boyle!

- So let us all bow our heads

and join together
for a moment of silence.

[organ music plays softly]

- [scoffs]
This church is so quiet.

- Pretty normal
for a moment of silence.

Captain has eyes on a guy
he thinks might be Scar-Joe.

Okay, be cool.
Let's check him out.

[funky music]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

- Please make me
defile this church.

- What do you want?

- Take off your gloves
and show us your hands.

♪ ♪

- And no scar.

He's just a glove-wearing freak
with beautiful hands.

- Why did he run then?

- He's a pickpocket.

I guess the bereft
are easy targets.

Also, Scully,
here's your wallet back.

- How's Amy doing?

Is she paying enough attention
to her pelvic floor?

- Ignoring that.

She is keeping a low profile,
just like we discussed.

- I'm really impressed
with you two.

You disagreed
with the best strategy,

but talked it through
like adults.

- Well, the key is trust.

I trust her to stay
out of danger,

and she trusts me
not to interfere.

- Oh, my God.

She just pushed Figgis
into the garbage.

- She's in danger.
I must interfere.

- What the hell
do you think you're doing, huh?

- Showing my unborn baby
how an ass gets kicked.

- [growls]

- All right, Cortez,
time for your checkup.

- [sighs]
No, thank you, I feel fine.

- No, you don't.

It's your uterus,
it's... gonna explode.

- What?
- Come with me.

Stand back, everyone.
You're all in the splash zone.

- [groans]
- This ute's gonna boot.

Here we go.

- [sighs]
- What the hell?

We agreed you weren't
gonna do that.

You disobeyed a direct order
from your handler.

- Yeah, I did.
Because that order was crap.

I did the right thing

and it's insulting
that you don't see that.

- Hey, hey, hey.

The baby can hear you yelling
and it's upsetting him.

- It's a fake baby,
Charles.

- I meant me.
The baby's a cover.

- Okay, stop.

You're right.
I'm 100% in the wrong.

The truth is,
I'm the one

that's not tough enough
to be in here.

I mean, watching
the woman I love,

unarmed, locked up
with all these murderers.

It's just too much for me.

- Oh, my God.
Amy, go to him.

- I screwed up.
- No, you didn't.

I get it.

Being a cop and dating a cop--

it's harder than I thought
it would be.

I worry about you too.

- Oh, my God.
Jake, go to her.

- Look, I was just
trying to keep you safe,

but I wasn't letting you
do your job.

I'm sorry.

- Why aren't you
going to each other?

- I think I have to take myself
off of this assignment.

- Are you sure?

- Absolutely.
You got this.

Hopefully, I haven't already
blown your cover

by dragging you
into my office

so many times.

Also, I'm pretty sure
a lot of people heard me say

that your baby's
blood type is "OG."

- Yeah, you're a pretty
terrible doctor.

- Mm-hmm.

- But... I think I know
how to get things back on track.

- Hey, Cortez, you're late
for your appointment.

- Quit touching me.

- Oh!
Ugh!

- [grunts]

I don't need checkups
every two seconds,

you dimple-chinned freak!

- Oh!
Aah--ow!

You're so tough and I'm
just a beautiful intellectual.

- [grunts]
- Hey,

I love beating up doctors.

Can I get in there?
- No! He's mine.

All of you, back off!

I'm kicking for two.

- [yelling, groaning]

- Sorry that wasn't
Scar-Joe.

- I don't want
to talk about it.

Talking about your feelings
is for losers.

- I guess Adele's a loser
in your world.

Look, the funeral's
almost over,

we basically pulled it off.

All you've got to do
is give a convincing eulogy.

- Roger that.

Pimento's dead.

Thanks for coming.

[sighs]

Adrian Pimento
was very special to me.

And now he's gone.

And I'm starting to realize...

there's nothing I can do
to bring him back.

I guess life is just
gonna suck for a while.

But it's nice to know
there's a room full of people

who is sucks for too.

I'd also like to add...

the next person who hugs me
gets their necks snapped.

- And... she's back.

- Okay, this is it,
I'm leaving.

You're in charge.

- I'll take extra good
care of her, Jake.

- Just let her do her thing.

But this is Texas,
so also make sure

she doesn't somehow get
the death penalty.

- Mm-hmm.

- Stay tough, Cortez.

- You're touching her boob.
Should I turn away, or...

- I'm not touching her boob.
She's tiny on the screen.

I'm just saying good-bye,
man.

- You know, why don't I turn
and give you privacy?

- No, don't turn.
That's what makes it weird.

Ugh!

[upbeat music]

- Well, we pulled it off.

Nice eulogy.

- I thought it was dumb.
- Sergeant?

- Excuse me?

- You said there's nothing
you can do to bring him back,

but you're wrong.

None of us are gonna stop
fighting until he comes home.

- Thanks.

- And if you ever need
to talk,

or get drunk,

or throw stuff off a roof,

I mean,
I don't know your process.

Am I hitting on anything here?

- The roof thing
sounds pretty good.

- Very well. Let's throw
something off the roof

and then
we'll get back to work.

High five.

I quite like them now.

- What are you looking at?
You got a problem?

- Whoa.
Cool it, killer.

I just wanted to say
good job

on beating the crap
out of that doctor.

- Oh.
Thanks.

- I like you.
You got balls.

Maybe you should come
work for me.

I could use a bruiser
on my crew.

- I'm not a bruiser.

I'm a psycho.

- Even better.

- Nice job, Cortez.

Oh, I touched her boob.
I've got to tell Jake!

- Not a doctor.
- Shh.