Brooklyn Nine-Nine (2013–…): Season 8, Episode 3 - Blue Flu - full transcript

For most people, a burrito
is a delicious meal

wrapped in a tortilla,
but for one NYPD officer,

it turned out to be a mouse
wrapped in a nightmare.

So I order
a grande steak.

I get back to my car,
take a big bite, and crunch.

That's when I see it,
a dead mouse.

A dead mouse
that Frank O'Sullivan,

the President
of the Patrolman's Union,

says was put there
on purpose.

This was an act
of political violence

organized by a group



of radical anti-cop

Antifa anarchists

working out
of The Burrito Haven.

This is bogus.

The officer called in a to-go
order under the name Tom.

The restaurant had
no idea he was a cop

when they made the food
or packed the bag.

So, clearly,
he wasn't targeted

for "being
a police officer."

I've always wanted
to try mouse meat.

I hear it's really
tasty. From who?

The union made it up
as a power move.

O'Sullivan wants me
to issue

a statement of public
support for the officer,



to give them all
extra hazard pay

and to wear this "Never
Forget Burrito" ribbon.

Weird. It's the exact
same color

as my "Color Blind
Awareness" ribbon.

No, it isn't.

I won't give in to
any of their demands.

The union is powerful,
but I'm sure

that most of our uniformed
officers understand

this incident
is nonsense.

It is, as Peralta would say,
"No big whoop."

Oh, I appreciate
the shout-out, sir,

but I actually don't
pronounce the "H" in whoop.

Sir, all the uniformed
officers just left.

They're staging
a walkout.

Well, it seems
I was wrong.

The "whoop"
is big after all.

It is.

Again, though, there's...
There's no "H" in whoop.

It's silent.
"Whoop."

Whoop.
"Whoop."

Am I crazy?
How do you say it?

I say whoop.
Okay.

How is it possible
that every single

uniformed officer
got sick at once?

They're not
actually sick.

They aren't
allowed to strike,

so they made up
a medical excuse.

It's called a blue flu.

Without uniforms
on the street, crime's gonna go up.

Do we have to
negotiate with the union?

No. I haven't gone
through decades of hell

to become a captain
in the NYPD

just to cave to a clown
like O'Sullivan.

We can't let him win,
and we won't.

But how?
What are we gonna do?

I'm initiating
Operation Trident.

Cool. Just like
the sugarless gum,

because we're gonna
chew them up.

No, like the famed
weapon of the sea,

forged by the Cyclops
for Poseidon himself.

The trident
has three prongs,

like my approach.

Ah, not
to interrupt,

but Aquaman's trident
has five prongs.

That's absurd. The
prefix "tri" means three.

What this aquatic-man carries
is better termed a "pentadent."

No,
it's a trident.

They call it that in the
original theatrical release

and the Snyder Cut.

So you're 100% wrong,
and everyone's laughing at you.

Well, regardless,
Operation Trident

has three prongs.

Prong one,
Boyle and Peralta.

Oh, nice, the most
important prong.

Mmm-hmm.
Wrong.

Prong two,
the center prong,

is the most important
prong on a trident.

It's the longest
and straightest

and breaks
the least often.

Are you just mad because I
questioned you about the Aquaman thing?

Yes. The officers
all had doctor's notes.

Prove those notes
are fraudulent,

and they'll be forced
back to work.

We're on it.
Prong two,

Jeffords and Santiago,
your job is to keep crime down.

Figure out how we police
this precinct with no police.

Prong two, baby,
the best prong.

I mean, we're all
in it together.

It's not like this is
a competition between prongs.

Says the prong
who breaks the most.

Prong three is proving
they faked the mouse

in the burrito.

If we can demonstrate
this was a media stunt,

the uniforms will have
to come back to work.

But this investigation
must be done unofficially

with an investigator
from outside the NYPD,

aka Rosa Diaz.

It's a good idea,
but she's not gonna like

being one of those dinky side prongs.
That's a good point.

I'll make hers
the sharpest.

Dismissed.
What? No!

I want to be
a sharp prong!

That's not fair!

All these notes are
from the same doctor.

Everyone got a blood test,
and they all had mono.

That seems
really improbable.

Yeah, nobody gets
mono at this age.

You get it as an eight-year-old,
and then you're immune.

Wait, you get it
as an eight-year-old?

Mono?
The kissing disease?

No, it's the
cousin's disease.

You get it by
kissing your cousins.

Oh, I guess
we're both right.

No.

Wait a minute,
if you're immune,

then you can tell the doctor
you're from the Nine-Nine,

and when he gives you
a mono diagnosis...

We'll have proof
that his notes are fake.

Wow. I can't believe all
those lazy childhood afternoons

playing hide the yam
finally paid off.

You see,
you take a yam... I don't want to know!

Prong two update,

I brought in our
night-shift detectives

to handle
the dispatch calls

and respond to major crimes..
.

Sorry. That's
Terry's tummy.

I'm feeling
a little nauseous.

Must've been something
I had for breakfast.

Well, do you have to go home,
or can you tough it out?

So, if Terry goes home,
he's not tough?

Here we go. Lieutenant, we don't
have the time today to make this

about some
larger insecurity

you have regarding
your toughness.

First of all,
I'm not insecure about my toughness.

Secondly, being sick has
nothing to do with being tough.

Thirdly, if I wasn't tough,
would I be daring Amy

to punch me in the
stomach? Wha...

Come on, Amy!
Give me your best shot!

Fine. Just so that
we can move on.

See? I'm fine.

Now, if you'll
excuse me,

I'm gonna go for a walk
in the fresh air

with my best friend,
the trash can.

I'll be back,
'cause I'm tough!

Let's talk quickly
before he returns

and makes this all
about himself again.

Okay. We can't use
uniforms from other precincts

because they'll
call out sick, too.

So I asked the other
captains in the district

to lend us
some detectives.

Smart. They have
a different union.

And they each sent us
two people.

They said they were
happy to do it.

Huh. That's odd.

I wouldn't be happy
to give up

two of my detectives,
unless...

Dear God.

They sent us their
Hitchcock-and-Scullys.

It's a nightmare.

So you've been
feeling fatigued?

Yeah. I think
I have mono.

I'm from
the 99th precinct.

Oh, yeah,
I've heard

they've had some kind of
outbreak there.
Mmm-hmm.

So now that you know
where I'm from,

can you just
write me a note?

Uh, no, actually,
I need to order bloodwork

and do a full exam.
Ah.

Lift up.
Oh, yeah.

Oh. Now, that
is interesting.

Oh, did you find
a sign of mono?

No, it's your testicle.
My what?

The left one
is enormous.

Oh, well, can't one
testicle be larger than the other?

Well, yes,
but it shouldn't be that large.

And also of concern is
the shape and the color...

Yeah, that doesn't
sound good.

...and the texture.

Wow! Oh, that
is ice cold!

So...
So...

You heard all that?
I did.

Even the part where he's
talking about my huge...

Yep. Yep, yep, yep.
All the parts.

You okay?
Yeah.

I mean, could be cancer,
might have spread.

But I'm fine.
I can handle this.

You sure about that?

'Cause you're still wearing
your hospital gown there, bud.

So I am.

Ah,
there she is.

My sweet
secret prong three.

What the hell?
Oh, right.

You weren't there when I
explained Operation Trident.

So, uh,
what did you find?

Nothing yet,
and if you want me to keep digging,

we need to talk
about my fee.

I need cash. Most of
my other work is pro bono.

This is unofficial.
I can't pay.

Right, but there is
something you can give me,

something just as
valuable as money.

I want to see
your tattoo.

That's just as valuable?

It is to Jake. He's offered
a significant reward.

Wow. It is so ridiculous
how much weight

you've all given
to my silly tattoo,

like it's some huge secret
that I'll take to my grave.

I notice you haven't
said yes yet.

'Cause no one
can ever know!

Okay, fine.

If you can prove how that
mouse got into that burrito,

I'll tell you
what my tattoo is.

I need a photo of it.
You're a monster!

Wait. I may not have
to deal with you.

Santiago,
how's prong two looking?

Well, the good news is
the Scully-and-Hitchcocks

actually work
well together.

That is good news.

The bad news is it's at
making a back-scratch circle.

I have always wondered
what it would be like

to have a tight-knit
work family.

Nine-Nine!
Nine-Nine!

Ah, there they are,
prong one,

my most
important prong.

Oh, thank you. Nice of
you to finally recognize

what our prong
brings to this.

Life is a cruel prank
played on the living.

Death mocks us all.

Time to go tell my
son he'll be an orphan...

...again.

So, yeah. Prong one pretty
much broke immediately.

I'm gonna call HR.
Get ahead of that butt.

Here's where we stand.
The blue flu continues.

O'Sullivan and the union
won't budge

on their
mouse-burrito demands.

Also, arrests are down.

Santiago, Jeffords,
what on earth happened yesterday?

The new detectives
won't do anything I ask.

And I've had
to work solo.

Sorry. I was feeling
a little sick,

but I am much
better now.

You look
like garbage.

Now,
I know you're trying to tough this out,

but I've always believed
that true toughness

means acknowledging
your own limitations.

It's okay, Terry.
Go home.

Thank you, sir.
I'll be back in a jiffy.

I can't believe
he bought that drivel.

True toughness means
working through pain.

Everyone knows that.

Peralta, where are
we with the doctor?

We're gonna tail him and see if he
contacts O'Sullivan.
Smart.

And, uh, what is going on with
Detective Boyle? Is he okay?

Oh,
you mean why is he face-deep in cheese?

Yeah, it's made from the
milk of a Balkan donkey,

and apparently
it's quite expensive.

Spent 12 thou
on ass cheese.

Also, he's
pretending like

he doesn't know what
ass cheese sounds like.

Are you sure
he should be working?

His doctor said there's
nothing to worry about

until we get the actual
test results back.

And Charles
said that work

is the only thing keeping
him from thinking about death.

Coat's to keep
me warm...

...in my grave.

I mean,
he's not doing great.

Oh, you guys still
have lunch together?

Twice a day, every day.

Look, I need help
figuring out

how to inspire
these new guys.

What motivates you?

Well, I'd do anything
to retire

and spend the rest of my
days with Hitchcock in Brazil.

Huh. That's actually
pretty helpful.

That's the dream.

Scully and me on the
sex barge I'm building.

Okay. Scully
was already helpful.

You don't have
to keep talking.

These are pedometers,

which will prove that you're
actually walking your beat.

But whoever gets
the most steps in

will receive
seven days of overtime.

Therefore,
you'll be one week closer to retirement.

And one week closer
to a couple's massage

with your best friend
on his sex barge.

Sir, guess what.

Lieutenant,
I thought you went home. I did.

But some uniforms heard
that I called out sick,

and they assumed
I was joining the blue flu.

They invited me to a meeting
tomorrow to talk strategy.

You could go record them

admitting that they don't
actually have mono.

That is,
if you're up to it. Hell yeah.

Terry's gonna
tough it out.

Terry's also gonna drink
some raspberry leaf tea

that Sharon uses to help
her with menstrual cramps.

Oh, looks like
we're adding a prong.

Operation Trident
is now Operation Fork.

Isn't there a cooler
word than "fork"?

I mean, something more
like "trident."

Oh, no. Did everyone assume
I was trying to be cool?

Is that why things
are going so poorly?

Damn it,
I've got to call Peralta.

No, Operation Fork
is definitely not cool.

Uh, yeah, things are
going good here.

We're just staking out
the doctor

and trying to keep
a low profile.

And I'll be Your crying...

Sorry about that. Just had
a bit of a noisy neighbor.

I'll be...

You know what,
sir? We have another noisy neighbor.

I'm just gonna
call you back. Bye.

All right, Charles,
I get it. You're scared.

But sometimes it helps
to say our fears out loud.

You know, if you put
words to them,

it can take away
some of their power.

So, come on.

Stop bottling up those fears
and get them out in the open.

Okay, well...

I'm scared that
whatever's in my testicle

has spread,
and that I'm gonna die.

And then I'll never get
to see Nikolaj grow up.

And I won't know what
kind of man he becomes.

Also, my time with you
will be cut short.

So no more stakeouts,
or drinks after a long shift

or midnight calls when you've
had a breakthrough in a case.

I've always had this
image of us in our 90s

hunting down criminals
at the retirement home,

but I guess that was
just a dumb fantasy

because soon
I won't be here anymore,

because I'll be
dead and gone

and you won't ever
see me again.

Jake, are you crying?
No.

Yes.

Diaz, why the
hush-hush meeting?

Because in one minute,

you're gonna be showing
me your tramp stamp.

I don't have a tramp
stamp. Prove it.

Show me your
lower back.

Hmm. Seems I didn't know
what a tramp stamp was.

But I'm not gonna
show you anything

until you've solved
the case.

Surveillance footage
of McCaffery

entering a pet store
and buying a mouse

an hour before he
found it in his burrito.

He set
the whole thing up.

Diaz, you did it.

And now...

My payment.

Okay, O'Sullivan,
there's McCaffery

coming out
of Perdue Pet Supplies

with the mouse that
he put in the burrito.

So there's no need
for tactical gear

or a "Never Forget Burrito"
ribbon or any of that.

You need to call off
the blue flu.

Are you crazy?
My guys are under attack.

No, I just proved that it
wasn't an attack. He faked it.

Not that attack,
this attack,

the one where you call
a policeman a liar.

He is a liar. Oh, dear,
my God. You just did it again.

Do you understand the
worst thing you could do

to another person is to
call that person a liar?

You hate cops.
That's a fact.

I just thought

the blue flu was about
a mouse in a burrito.

Well, it was,
but now it's about you saying it wasn't.

That doesn't make any sense.
So you're calling me stupid?

That's not what I said!
You're calling me a liar?

I just don't know how to
talk to someone like you.

Someone like me?

Wow. That's racist.

Oh, this is a very
frustrating conversation.

The union can't
be reasoned with.

I need an update.
Prong one?

More broken
than ever.

Ah, well, I never had
any faith in you anyway.

Santiago,
how's prong two doing?

We're killing it.

According to
the pedometers

I put on the
Hitchcock-and-Scullys,

they're out
walking their beat.

And it's all thanks
to these guys.

Hey.
Screw you, Amy.

No, I was
complimenting you.

Well, screw you anyway.
Yeah.

As for prong four,
Jeffords is recording

the officers' secret
meeting as we speak.

And I expect he'll be bursting
into my office any minute

with the proof we need
to end the blue flu.

I got the proof we need
to end the blue flu.

Wait, really?
Why so surprised?

That was the plan.
Yes.

But earlier,
I was talking to the squad,

and I put a lot of pressure
on this moment,

which I then regretted.

I feared I might be
hoist on my own petard.

No petard hoisting here.

They talked about
everything in front of me,

how they planned
the whole thing,

how long they were gonna
pretend to be sick.

And you recorded it all,
despite your own illness.

I must say,
I'm impressed.

Because of how tough
I am, right?

The toughest.

Okay,
first things first. We got to get...

What, what is that?

I had the mic
close to my chest,

so I guess it must have
picked up my stomach noises,

but I'm sure
it stops eventually.

More stomach.

More stomach.

It's all stomach.
And there it is,

the petard.

I need your help. Our
arrests are still way down.

But according
to the pedometers,

our Hitchcock-and-Scullys are
out there logging miles on the beat.

How are they
not seeing any crimes?

How do you know
they're walking?

I just told you, their pedometer
numbers are through the roof.

Oh, poor, simple Amy.

It's like you've never had to
mess with a medical device

in order to trick your
life insurance agent.

Watch and learn.

They're just using
the massage chairs

to jiggle
their pedometers?

Life always finds a way.

To do what?

To do nothing.

Dr. Mintleman's just
working his normal job

and not being a criminal.

I can't believe this is how
I'm spending my final days.

Maybe it doesn't have
to be. Screw this case.

What's something
you've always wanted to do?

Do you have
a bucket list?

Well, yeah, but, I mean,
it's only one item.

Great. Whatever it is,
we're doing it.

Live to be 110.
Come on!

I thought
I found a loophole!

Okay,
how about this?

We go on a
cross-country road trip,

me on a motorcycle,
you in my sidecar?

Or we enter
a cooking competition,

and you Ratatouille me from
inside of a giant chef's hat?

I track down
Dianne Wiest,

and you finally try
and use your hall pass?

You're smiling,
so I guess that one's it.

Oof, going with Wiest, huh?
I got to be honest, Boyle,

I'm not so sure
you can pull that off.

I mean, her career
is red hot.

She just did a movie
with Streep.

No, Jake. That's not
why I'm smiling.

I'm smiling because
you know me so well.

Yeah, we're best friends.
Of course I know you.

Well, as perfect
as all your ideas were,

nothing tops sitting
here with my best friend.

I mean, why would I want to
go to town on Dianne Wiest

when I can go to town
with you?

What?

Hang out. Go to town
with each other.

It's a common
friendship phrase.

Haven't heard it.

Oh.

Oh, God. It's my
biopsy results.

What does it say? I don't
know. I'm too nervous.

I can't read it.

It's not cancer.
Not cancer.

It's an infection,
and it's highly treatable.

I'm not gonna die?
You're not gonna die!

Oh, we got
to celebrate.

Does it say if it's safe to ride
a two-person banana boat?

I don't know. Let me
check. It doesn't say.

Oh, well.

And also, I think
just figured out

how all those officers
got their fake diagnoses.

Tell us what's
written there.

"Patient's left teste is gnarled
and shows discoloration."

No, not that.
There, at the top.

"ShareChem Medical
Laboratory." Yeah, so?

So we thought it was
the doctor handing out

fake diagnoses,
but he's clean.

However, the officers knew
he used ShareChem Lab,

and that lab is owned
by David Share,

brother of Nine-Nine
officer Michael Share.

The lab faked
the blood results.

None of the officers
are actually sick,

which means they have
no excuse to miss work.

Well, unfortunately,
that is...

Stop. I know you're gonna
twist my words

into some vicious attack
on you and the NYPD.

So, before you do that,
I'd like the pleasure

of making the vicious
attack myself.

Sir, your insults
are kind of known

to be little too think-y,
maybe you should just let...

O'Sullivan,
you are a

And I hope your

Get shoved right
into your .

Wow. Well, that was
definitely not too think-y.

Okay, okay, okay.
You got me.

The men didn't have mono.
They weren't sick.

Damn right.
But they are now.

What? It seems
they had a meeting,

and somebody showed up
with a very bad stomach bug

and gave it
to everyone there.

I believe the officer's name was a,
uh,

Lieutenant Jeffords.

The petard.

It just won't
stop hoisting.

Hey there, sir.

You missed
the morning briefing.

And I see you found
Charles' cheese.

Mmm, it pairs well
with despair

and also this 1976
Château Haut-Brion.

Doesn't seem like the kind of
bottle you're supposed to chug.

I bought it the day
I joined the force

with the intent to open it
when I became commissioner.

Oh, my gosh,
this is big news.

Congratulations, sir.

No, he's not becoming
commissioner, Scully.

We can still fight
the blue flu.

It's over, Lieutenant.

I have to cave
to O'Sullivan's demands.

Sir, you can't give up on all your
hard work because of one setback.

I'm a realist.

I knew I wouldn't be able
to fix every problem,

though I always imagined
I could fix some of them.

But as a realist,
I can now see

I haven't fixed
a damn thing.

The NYPD will
never change.

Sir, if I may,
when I thought I was dying,

all I could think about was what a
disappointment my life had been.

But then Jake
went to town with me.

Common friendship phrase.

And it helped me realize
you can't focus

on the things
you didn't do.

Focus on
what you did do.

And, more importantly,
focus on who you did it with.

Boyle, you're
absolutely right.

I am? My speech turned
your life around?

No, I found it trite
and uninspiring,

but something
you said resonated.

Focus on the things
you didn't do.

I said not to focus on
the things you didn't do.

Again, your speech
meant nothing.

I'm just picking out
individual words.

Sure, sure, yeah.

Hot damn.

I know how to end
the blue flu.

I found a fifth prong.

So I gather you're ready
to cave to my demands.

Why would I do that?
Give me a break.

Your arrests are way down,

and your CompStat numbers
are terrible.

I think those numbers
look great.

No, you don't. Well,
not those numbers.

Obviously, they make it look like
we haven't done much at all this week.

But a friend of mine
told me something

unintentionally
interesting,

focus on what
you didn't do.

So here's what
we didn't do this week.

With fewer officers
at our disposal

and none of them trying
to hit CompStat numbers,

we made fewer bad arrests.

Number of complaints against officers,
down 32%.

Number of cases
thrown out at arraignment

for insufficient evidence,
down 34%.

And here's the most
important thing we didn't do.

We didn't make
the community less safe.

Rates of major
and violent crime,

what actually matters,
stayed the same.

What are you saying?

I'm saying the Nine-Nine
just became a case study

for how a police force

can work better
with fewer police.

Are you actually talking
about laying off cops?

If these numbers persist,
I may have no choice.

Then I'll just end the blue
flu. Great. That's what I want.

Then I won't end the blue
flu. Great. Fewer cops.

That's what I want.
You just said that...

This is a very frustrating
conversation.

I'd like
to officially announce

that the blue flu
is over.

The uniformed officers
are at work,

and we sent
the Hitchcock-and-Scullys

back to their
home precincts.

So everything's
back to normal?

No, the opposite.

We're gonna use what
we learned this week

to change the way the
NYPD polices our streets.

Okay, awesome.
Very inspiring.

Now, onto
more important things.

I have obtained from
Rosa a photograph...

...of Captain
Holt's tattoo.

Bup-bup-bup!

I'm sorry, Captain,
but there's nothing you can do

that will stop me
from revealing

that your secret and
embarrassing tattoo is...

A dot?
Huh?

It's a decimal point.

Ah, what a first-thought
mathematical symbol.

Might as well
have gotten

a greater-than
or equal-to sign.

I can't believe I spent
$2,000 on a dot.

You did?
I know, Amy!

We're both upset
about the same thing!

I got to call Rosa.

Thank you for giving Peralta
the doctored photo.

My allegiances are
to the highest bidder.

And you'll never
tell anyone what you saw?

They wouldn't
believe me if I did.

I mean, come on, sir.
It's a picture of...