City on a Hill (2019–…): Season 3, Episode 1 - Episode #3.1 - full transcript
Does, uh, Joseph
Congemi live here?
He's got nothing to say to you.
You got
nowhere to run, Anton!
- Fuck.
Fuck happened?
He fucking wheeled on me, Chris.
He wheeled on me.
You need me to be
your token Black boy.
I want you to do
your fucking job.
I'm asking to be polite.
Fuck you.
You can have it.
You have to remember,
Boston is a mistake.
The Mayflower was
never supposed to land
on Plymouth fucking Rock.
They were heading to
Virginia and got lost.
Boston only exists
because of someone's
shitty sense of direction.
Ah.
The prodigal pain
in the ass returns
to the scene of his many crimes.
And the prodigal drunk remains
steadfast in his self-loathing.
What are you drinking?
- You buying?
- I'm pouring.
Hennessy, right?
Wait, wait.
You work here?
Oh, my, how far the
mighty have fallen.
Nah.
Given the shit I went through
with that bitch
Shimizu this past year,
- tending bar is a promotion.
- Hmm.
And fuck you.
So, the roar became a whisper.
Again, fuck you.
That's five bucks.
You know, we're looking
for some investigators
down at the D.A.'s office.
You want me to say something?
You serious?
Fuck no.
Good.
'Cause guys that work for
you don't live that long.
You better go clean that up.
Not again, Jimmy.
Dispatch, we're arriving
on the scene right now.
We're approaching the residence.
Stand by. We're making contact.
Police. This is the police.
Residents or occupants, come
to the door and open it now.
All
right, cover, cover.
- We got one occupant, female.
- What the fuck is going on?
- Show me your hands now.
- Do you know what time it is?
I'm Karen Shimizu,
the U.S. attorney.
- What is this about?
- Step outside, ma'am.
We're responding to a call about
shots fired at this address.
- What? Gunshots?
- Yes, ma'am.
- Who called?
- A neighbor.
Well, that's bullshit.
I've been home alone
all night...
not shooting a gun, all right?
We got to sweep this house.
Stay with her.
Stand aside, please.
We are entering the residence.
Copy, dispatch. Stand by.
- Room is clear.
- All clear in here.
Dispatch, Ladder 44.
We've arrived at the scene.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Police
are here, too.
- Fuck you, Shimizu.
Dispatch,
there's no sign of fire here.
We're gonna go in and make sure.
Good night, Dominique.
How was that?
- Nice.
- Hmm.
Good night, Letitia.
Good night, Sinclair.
You look like a bird,
but you talk like a man.
- I've known all along
you were a bully, not a bird.
Maybe,
but I don't fool around.
You ever heard of
using a coaster?
Fucking Clutch Cargo.
I forgot how much I
love this fucking show.
In this one, Clutch
and Snowshoe Slednick
capture the Arctic Bird Giant,
but it's not actually
a bird giant.
It's just some fucking
asshole dressed like a bird
on fucking stilts.
It's genius. I
got to try that.
Goddamn it, is this
honestly my life?
What did I do now?
Jack shit is what you do.
You work at that bar from
6 to 2 in the morning.
I mean, you come home reeking
of booze, smoke and vomit.
You sleep till noon,
then you lie around here
drinking and farting
until you just shower
- and you leave again.
- "For many are called
but few are chosen."
Matthew 22:14.
Something's got to change.
Okay? There's-there's not
enough money coming in.
Minimum wage and 200
bucks a week in tips
isn't gonna cover
Benny's $20,000 dollar
room, board and tuition at NYU.
I'm scared.
"Fear kills more
people than death."
You know who said that?
General George S. Patton.
When Ike almost fired
George for slapping
that-that soldier in
Italy, did he panic? No.
Did he wuss out and
run to mama? No.
He stood his fucking ground
and marched into Berlin.
You didn't victoriously
march into Berlin.
Yeah, you were
fired from the FBI!
No. No, no, no. I quit.
And-and-and you're forgetting
the escape money
in the basement.
Yeah, which you've been
dipping into for months now.
- How much of that is left?
- Plenty. Tons. We're flush.
Don't worry about it.
We both know about growing
up with shitty fathers
- who couldn't provide.
- Oh.
Why you got to bring your
loser father into this?
The day that we got
married, you promised
that you would always take
good care of our family.
Well, now you're
breaking that promise.
So here are your choices:
you get a better job,
or we sell the house,
or I go back to work.
Pick one.
'Cause I'm not waiting
around for us to go broke.
Bozo, my friend,
we're in trouble.
- Your thoughts?
- Yeah. You're right.
Maybe I should make some calls.
Good talk.
Decourcy, come on in.
I want your opinion.
Which photo makes me
look less like a cunt
and more avuncular
and trustworthy?
Ooh. Uh, you want the truth?
- Yeah.
- I don't give a shit.
Now, why'd you
really call me in?
Ah. Have a seat.
I'm running for attorney general
of the Commonwealth
of Massachusetts.
God, saying the whole
thing sounds so good.
And why do I care?
I know you'll miss
me, but if I win,
I will leave this office with
eight months left in my term.
And the governor says I
can appoint my successor.
Which means,
if I chose you and you kick ass,
you could position yourself
to run for a full term in '94.
What's the catch?
You're not my only
potential choice.
Of course not.
You expect me to kiss your ass
and be you errand
boy to prove myself.
You, sir, are
fucking unbelievable.
But I'm still your fucking
boss, and what I say goes.
Read into this what you want.
I'm trying to help your career.
- You mean your career.
- Fuck's wrong with that?
As the Sicilians say, one
hand washes the other,
both hands wash the dick.
So, what I need is
excellence and convictions
to sell to the voting
public. Out of both of you.
Who's the other guy?
The other guy is a woman.
And she's on her way here now.
Mr. Ward, Blair Chavez.
Meeting you is an honor,
and working with you
will be a privilege.
It's nice to meet you, as well.
Given the circumstances.
Yes, the
circumstances are
- a little off-putting.
- Mm.
I don't even know why I'm under
consideration for your job.
You made headlines in Chicago,
putting that state senator away
for misuse of campaign funds.
You built a big,
splashy, successful case,
and that is what I expect
from the two of you.
He thinks his transparency
is comforting.
All I know is I will
need to lean on you
to learn how Suffolk
County works.
Happy to help.
Welcome to Boston.
Let the games begin.
Aw, that's nice.
Yeah, my dad used to take me
here, too, when I was little.
Mr. Suferin,
your former partner,
Officer Wallace, will
testify that you disobeyed
Sergeant Caysen's orders
by going into the house
where Anton Campbell
was cornered.
Wallace was right behind me
- when I...
- I'm not finished.
He will also testify
that Campbell
was not turning around.
Instead, you executed him
while others were
negotiating with him.
That Black bastard was firing.
- Every cop out front...
- Forensics do not lie.
He was shot in the
side of the head.
He wasn't facing you.
And that's why
you're being charged
under Title 18
U.S.C. Section 242
of the Federal Criminal Code.
A possible life sentence.
Miss Shimizu, I
assume you're here to save
the government time and money.
What's your offer?
PTC, and we recommend
15 years, not life.
- Fuck that!
- He was performing his duty.
His actions were justified.
No jury would ever
convict a cop of that.
His own partner
called Mr. Campbell's
death an assassination.
Officer Suferin's jacket
has over a dozen complaints
of racial animus for
which he was disciplined.
- I'm not a racist.
- Life or 15, Mr. Suferin.
Take the offer.
If it's a boy,
I'm thinking Russ Wallace
Jr. But is that okay?
- I mean, I don't know.
- Russ, the baby's not here yet.
You're getting all
tangled up for no reason.
We're a couple weeks away.
I'm just not sure
that I'm ready.
I mean...
holy shit, a fucking baby.
Every dad-to-be feels the same.
Then the day comes, you're
holding your baby boy or girl
in your arms, and in that
precious moment, you realize
in 16 years that kid's gonna
be saying, "Fuck you, Dad."
Thanks for
the sage advice, Sarge.
Go.
Ronnie Weskum!
This is the Boston Police.
We have you surrounded.
Step out of the vehicle
with your hands up
and walk backwards to my voice.
Ronnie! Step out of the vehicle!
Show me both your hands, then
walk backwards to my voice.
Don't fuck around, Ronnie.
Show me both your hands.
Gun! Gun!
- Suspect down.
- Down! Suspect down!
- He's down!
- Suspect down.
- All right, easy, easy. Move in.
- Moving in.
Officer down. Officer down.
Russ. Russ.
Stay here, man. Stay here.
Fuck.
Dad. Coaster.
Jesus Christ, you're more
like your mother every day.
You're hovering.
Yeah, I got to talk to
you about something.
How much you need?
I mean, that's a pretty
shitty conversation starter.
Come on, what makes you think
I'm always gonna
ask you for money?
- Get that, will you?
- Uh-huh.
Hi there. I'm Sinclair Dryden.
- Can I help you?
- Is your father home?
Let me check.
- Dad?
- Yeah, yeah.
Send him right in, Benny.
Thank you.
Jackie.
- It's good to see you.
- Sinclair.
- Still tan as a porn star.
- Let's sit in here.
- Yeah.
Uh, I don't know if
you got my message.
I-I called you. I-I
didn't hear back.
Yeah, I've done
too many wiretaps
to trust using a phone, huh?
Oh, boy.
Oh. Bad back, huh?
Yeah, playing football
at a family gathering.
Ever since, any change of the
weather makes my back ache.
Well, it wasn't aching...
What was it, five years ago?
When you punched
that U.S. attorney.
He deserved more of a beating.
His secretary started screaming.
You were the best SAC the
Boston Bureau ever had.
It's a shame that that pansy's
broken jaw cost you your job.
I fell on my own sword,
like a man should.
You've done the
same, or so I hear.
- You landed on your feet.
- Well, like I said
in my message, you know,
I'm-I'm doing some consulting.
You know, a little of
this, little of that.
Back when I was running
the Boston Bureau,
I let you pick your own
music, dance your own dance.
No questions asked. I
could depend on you.
You still can.
That's why I want to hire you.
Look, I think this could be
a perfect situation
for both of us.
I made a lot of enemies in
the course of my career.
And lately, uh, things
have started to happen.
Tires slashed, my
wife gets harassed.
A couple of nights ago, a car
follows my daughter Victoria
onto our driveway,
parks right behind her
and stays there a while.
Scared her to death.
- You have surveillance cameras?
- Yes, but there's
a gap in the tape at the
time of the incident.
Look, Jackie, I know
you've been slinging hooch
at the 21st Amendment.
But that's a waste
of Jackie Rohr.
You need a job, and I need
somebody who knows his shit.
As your head of security?
Oh, I'm not worried
about myself.
But I am afraid for Letitia and
my daughter when I'm not around.
2,000 bucks a week, cash.
That's almost $50,000 dollars
more than you were making
working for Uncle, and
no, you do not have time
- to talk to your wife.
Yeah, all right.
I'll see you at my house at
10 a.m. tomorrow morning.
Oh. Mount Vernon Street,
huh? Beacon Hill.
Must be nice to always
get what you came for.
An advance.
I'll show myself out.
- Bendrops.
How much you need?
Dr. Stewart, please dial 2126.
- Dr. Stewart, please dial 2126.
- Russ just died.
- Carol, I'm so sorry.
- No. No, no, no,
no, no, no, no.
It was Blair Chavez,
some hotshot A.D.A.
out of Chicago.
Guy Dan hired her to...
To fuck with my head.
Well, then, that's simple.
Don't let her fuck
with your head.
Look...
I want to be Suffolk County D.A.
Then I'd get the chance to
actually make the changes
that need to be made.
- Hello?
- Decourcy, hey.
Hey, Louie. What's up, man?
So, listen, uh,
I was out on patrol
when I got a call.
Pop collapsed in
front of the house.
Wait, what? Is he okay?
He seems to be.
The-the paramedics can't figure
out what's wrong with him.
Well, what did the doctors say?
That stubborn old fool
won't go see a doctor.
He says he's fine.
He's upstairs sleeping.
I'll be in Brooklyn
as soon as I can.
All right, I'll see you.
I haven't heard
you whistle in months.
"Man starts over
again every day,
in spite of all he knows,
against all he knows."
You sure you want to
work in Beacon Hill?
Yesterday you said I
was a lazy shit-bum.
You compared me to
your degenerate father
and you beat my balls
like scrambled eggs.
So, yeah, two grand a week cash
to make sure that
Dryden's doors are locked?
That's the right decision.
I know you, Jackie.
Nah, there's more to
this than just the money.
You like feeling
like a cop again.
Wrong.
I don't miss that life
a single fucking bit.
Good for you.
You got your first lie of
the day out of the way.
Hernando's been hit.
He's got a fucking rod
through his fucking
head. Get help.
Call an ambulance.
This is site 22.
We've had an accident.
We need an ambulance.
How you doing?
- Fuck.
Officer Suferin
refused my offer.
Never should
have put one on the table.
That bastard deserves life in
prison, no chance at parole.
Sorry keeping you guys waiting.
You should've called.
Yeah, I should've. I should've
done a lot of fucking things.
Look, I have tons
of things to do
before I head to
Brooklyn tomorrow.
Chris, did Officer Wallace
ever contradict his statement
about Suferin murdering
Anton Campbell?
Uh, no. He, uh...
At first, he was
hesitant to say anything,
but he came around.
Russ knew he had to
do what was right.
And now he's dead. Apparently,
shot by another cop.
Ballistics report
came in this morning.
Did you read it?
Looks like one of your
guys killed Wallace.
It's not a house fire.
We still have his
sworn statement.
No, but a living witness is
better than a piece of paper.
- What's this?
- Either a blessing or a curse.
You heard about that
accident that happened
at the Big Dig site
near South Street?
Oh, the crane gave
way or something?
What happened was a
little more graphic.
Meet Hernando Mendoza.
Ooh. Sweet Jesus.
That's
probably who saved him.
- Mendoza survived this?
- Mm-hmm.
He's in the hospital.
Doctors aren't sure how much
he'll recover, if at all.
The family wants to sue,
but no law firm in the city
will represent him because...
Because this is Tip
O'Neill's love child.
Anyone who
fucks with the Big Dig
is gonna get crushed.
You up for taking on Goliath?
- I'll get my slingshot.
How are you?
Jackie Rohr for Sinclair Dryden?
- Thanks.
- Mrs. Dryden will be
- right with you.
- Okay.
- Uh, what, in here?
- Yes, please.
Little much, right?
Kind of wins the "look at us,
aren't we fucking
royalty" award.
Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dryden.
Uh, Jackie Rohr.
Doesn't do you justice.
I know. I've
put on a little weight.
Oh, no, no, no, that's
not what I meant. I was...
Jackie, let's be on
a first-name basis.
- I'm Letitia.
- Okay.
Come on. I'll, uh,
show you the house.
- Huh. House?
Where I come from, you could
fit a house in this room.
Oh, you play pool?
Yes, but not like you think.
You know, I've seen
you on the news.
You arrested those armored
car thieves in Charlestown,
shut down that drug
ring in Roxbury.
Are you some kind of superhero?
You got a cape
under that jacket?
Good
morning, Mrs. Dryden.
Dominique, hi. Um,
this is Mr. Rohr.
Mr. Rohr, Dominique
is a classmate
- of Sinclair's daughter.
- Nice to meet you.
Mrs. Dryden, I, um...
Was I here on Sunday night?
You had dinner with us, yes.
I-I remember dinner. Did
I, uh, did I sleep here?
Dominique, where did you
wake up in the morning?
A-At my apartment,
but there are, um,
gaps that I-I can't recall.
Well,
you had a lot of wine
- and you dozed on the couch.
We had our driver take you home.
Dom, I told you that we
were gonna study upstairs.
Jackie, meet my
stepdaughter Victoria.
Hey. Jackie Rohr.
Mr. Rohr
is looking out
for the family's security now.
Oh, don't tell me
Father finally fired
poor old drooling Freddie.
Uh, Victoria, your-your dad said
that you were followed into
the driveway the other night.
I want to ask you
a couple questions.
Later. I'm busy. Come on, Dom.
Uh, nice to meet you.
He's on the payroll. You
don't have to be polite.
Ah, listen, you know,
my daughter Benedetta,
- she can be...
- No, save your breath.
- Victoria is a class-A bitch.
If I can't remember
two nights ago,
how will I remember how long U
Thant led the United Nations?
Don't worry. I will make
you some flash cards.
Look, we have to get you into
the Kennedy School of Government.
- You need to rule the world.
You've been studying
like crazy for weeks.
You're gonna crush the exam.
Or I will kick your ass.
Hey.
Sorry I got so drunk
the other night.
- I didn't mean to embarrass you.
- I told you,
you should've let me and
Moustafa drive you home
instead of staying for
one of Dad's nightcaps.
Lesson learned.
Uh, so, Sinclair
mentioned something
- about you being harassed.
As usual, my husband's
being overly dramatic.
I had an argument with
my tennis partner.
He swung his racket at me.
It's really nothing
to sweat about.
This is your office.
Wow.
So who was your last
security guy? James Bond?
Jackie, do you
like this perfume?
Well, if that was a drug,
it would be illegal.
I can already see
how clever you are.
I'll let you settle in.
Uh, she'll need fall and
winter stuff for New York.
When you drop her at NYU, the
two of you should go shopping.
Oh, right, Sue. You know
Jackie would have a fit.
That's funny.
Last year, I'm giving
you all this shit
about not staying
married to Jackie and...
And now you're the divorced one.
The irony is intoxicating.
Do you know the Drydens?
You and Cabot ever
hang out with them?
We waved to each other at
fundraisers and the opera.
Back in the bad old days,
Sinclair Dryden's family
owned all the land from
the Common to Back Bay.
The one to watch
out for is Letitia.
She just ended an affair
with her tennis pro.
They're still cleaning
his blood off the asphalt.
- The daughter is...
- Hi, Sue.
- Hi, Benny.
- Ma, what are you doing?
I'm helping out.
I'm going to college,
not summer camp.
- I'll get this done my way.
- Okay, okay.
- You want a soda?
- Yeah.
Benny's in such a great place.
Oh, yeah, I'm so proud of her.
I mean, she's been a
champion with the recovery.
She really committed
to her sobriety.
My Clara, too.
She got her two-year
chip last weekend.
- Aw. Cheers.
Can I share something?
Yeah, of course.
Clara recently
told me she's gay.
Geez. What?
Yeah.
Telling me was hard for her.
She was afraid how I'd react.
Well, God, who can blame her?
I mean, look at the world.
Uh, look at this neighborhood.
When you and I were growing
up, I mean, life sucked
for anyone who wasn't
perfect-looking, let alone gay.
Yeah, I...
I love Clara for
having the courage
to just come out and
say who she is out loud.
You know? Good for her.
Oh, I got to go.
- Well...
- I'm volunteering
at the Nichols Center
to support Clara.
They work with AIDS
patients, advocacy,
- women's reproductive rights.
- Hmm.
Only problem is
they're shorthanded.
Hey, now that your
nest is empty,
- maybe you'd want to help.
- Oh, God.
Jackie would hate that.
Yeah, but I'd love to. Yes.
Thanks, Sue.
What are you hiding,
the phone numbers
of your old Brooklyn
girlfriends?
We talked about this.
I need this to keep us safe.
All right? I-I'm not gonna
be caught off guard again.
No, I understand.
Just seeing the gun
scared me a little.
I know you feel we
need one in the house.
I just wish I felt the same.
- Did you connect with your dad?
- No.
Every time I call,
he's sleeping.
I should go with you, baby.
Hey, let's be honest. I know
you don't like my father.
That's a polite way of
saying he doesn't like me.
I know you were pissed he
didn't come check on you
at the hospital
after the shooting.
Bothered me more that he didn't
call after the miscarriage.
Well, I hope this
is nothing serious
and that he gets better
fast and you come home soon.
And you don't need that
many pair of socks.
If you overpack, I'll fear
you're not coming back.
Hey, you are the only
place I call home.
Mm, I guess I'll
call Callie and...
spend the night.
We haven't had girl
time in a while.
Hmm?
I love you, too.
How was your day?
I had a fun-filled luncheon
for Bangladeshi refugees.
Ooh.
- I went shopping.
- Ah.
Jackie Rohr.
Is he trustworthy?
Yes, completely. Why?
We may have a problem
with Dominique.
How so?
She's trying to put the pieces
of the other night together.
No worries. I'll talk to her.
Where is everyone?
Serving warrants in
Southie. Sosnoff Gang.
I built that case.
We all did.
Yeah, right.
Hey, hey, that's mine.
What?
That's my stapler.
Wallace needed to
staple something
the other day, so
he borrowed mine.
- Give it here.
Odd, you're more concerned
about a stapler than Wallace.
Nah. God rest him.
You see the ballistics report
on the round that killed him?
Not yet.
Bullet came from your gun.
The fuck you saying, Caysen?
I'm saying you blew
Wallace's head off.
That's why you're on a desk for
the foreseeable fucking future.
This is bullshit. Round
probably ricocheted
off one of them rusted anchors.
There was nothing
between you and Wallace.
I walked the scene
with Internal Affairs.
- You that bad a fucking shot?
- Oh, fuck you, Chris.
No, fuck you, Rick!
Fuck you!
Here, take your fucking stapler.
Who's
this handsome guy?
Moustafa Mody. Pleasure.
- Victoria, good time?
- Nope.
Uh, look, your father is paying
me to keep you all safe, so...
Rah, rah. Believe
this: I'm safe.
My dad is the one
who needs help.
I just want to ask you about
the night you were followed.
It'll only take a minute.
- What happened, Vick?
- Nothing.
Moustafa, could you
wait in the other room?
No fucking way.
Okay, suit yourself.
So, Thursday night,
you're driving home.
Were you aware that you
were being followed?
- No.
- What time did you pull
- into the driveway, roughly?
- 10:30.
Uh-huh. Well, did you get
a good look at the car?
Can you tell me the make?
The car was a car.
Could you see inside? Like,
who was in there, or...?
It was dark, Einstein.
Ah.
So, the car pulls in behind you
in the driveway and
it just sits there.
I-I don't know. It was dark and
I was fucking scared, all right?
Yeah, well, that-that
sounds scary.
It's-it's interesting that,
the exact time you
were being followed,
the security cameras conked out.
I don't know anything
about security cameras.
And what time did you
pull into the driveway?
10:30, and nice try.
My dad uses that trick.
- What trick?
- Asking me the same question
twice to see if the answer
changes to prove I'm lying.
Were you at a bar or a
restaurant that night?
Seriously?
...buried alive
in an underground bunker
near the Hudson River
by NYPD detectives.
A longtime employee of the
formal-wear manufacturer
has been arrested in
connection to the kidnapping.
Upon being found, the
68-year-old millionaire...
increasingly likely to pass
with vehement support
from borough residents
who feel neglected
by city government.
It's right here, on the right.
Thank you.
Hey, Pop.
Hey, son.
- Hey.
- What are you doing here?
- What's with the boxes?
- Just...
- removing some clutter.
- Yeah?
You know Louie called me, right?
Said you dropped out front
like Sonny Liston back in '65.
- I was at that fight.
- Oh, I know.
I remember Moms was upset
'cause you spent the milk money
- on a train ticket to Maine.
- She was right.
Wasted a lot of hard-earned
cash going to see a fixed fight.
Ali hit him with a right
in the first round.
Fight as fixed as
the Last Supper.
What you mean?
Judas never had a chance.
Why'd you collapse?
Oh...
- No big deal.
- Mm.
Got light-headed, you know?
Thank God the ground
broke my fall.
- Oh, the ground, right? Ah.
Pop, I know you.
Come on, man.
There's more going on here
than a little light-headedness.
I suss out the
truth for a living.
This, this here,
it's not gonna float.
I have cancer. Uh...
The pancreas.
But I'm A-okay.
What? You...
But th... pancreatic cancer
is, like, the most
aggressive cancer there is.
How-how
long have you known?
A couple of months.
Pop, two months with pancreatic
cancer is like an eternity.
What-what, what do
they got you on?
Is it chemo, radiation?
What are we doing...
Nothing. I didn't
want any of that.
- I don't understand.
- It's simple.
I'm not doing therapies.
What... So, if-if you
hadn't fallen the other day,
- then what...
- I didn't ask you to come.
- Pop, I'm back.
Oh, shit, man, I thought
I'd beat you home.
- Come here.
- What's up, man?
I got us lunch.
Did I invite you boys
to stay for lunch?
Did you know about Pop's cancer?
He told me this morning.
Enough of this
self-righteous indignation.
I'm gonna dance.
Excuse me.
My name is Siobhan
Quays, from the ACLU.
I-I'm Lourdes Mendoza,
Hernando's sister.
This is Pepe, his son.
Nice to meet you, Pepe.
Have you spoken to
the doctors today?
They say, uh,
he-he might not walk again.
He could lose his eyesight.
He will probably have to
live out his life in a home.
Has anyone from
the construction company
or the city come
to speak with you
about insurance or
covering medical costs?
The first night in the ER, yes.
They explained that he
gets workers' compensation.
How is that enough?
I can't support Pepe
on a paycheck that
barely supports me.
I don't want you to worry.
I'm going to fight
for your family.
What are we gonna do about Pop?
We're gonna
respect his wishes.
Make him comfortable.
And let him die
on his own terms.
- I disagree.
- It doesn't matter.
The decision is not up to you.
You know, when Mom was
diagnosed with cancer,
he was relentless,
fighting to keep her alive.
We... I say we get him a doctor.
I have been on point taking
care of him all this time.
Where have you been?
- That's not fair, Louie.
- Yeah, no shit.
You can't just drop
in and take charge.
He is who he is.
You know that. Why
are you forcing this?
'Cause I don't believe he's
got no more fight left in him.
And I'd miss him.
Nice shot.
Hey. You want a drink?
It's got to be five
o'clock somewhere.
So, I went through the files
of the six guys that might
- have a vendetta against you.
- Yeah?
Two are dead, two are in prison,
one is born-again and
living in Venezuela.
And number six?
Well, him I took an interest in.
Lyle Pike. I-I couldn't find
him, so I did some digging,
and it turns out that
he changed his identity.
His name, his date
of birth, his social,
the whole fucking nine...
Even dyed his hair.
He's living in
Worcester hiding out
from some loan sharks
who want him dead.
So I knocked on his door
and I told him that...
if he ever came within
a mile of this zip code,
I would put his new
name and address
on the front page of The Globe.
Lyle Pike was always
a chickenshit.
I also spoke to Victoria about
the night that she was followed.
Yeah, she told me.
She wasn't happy.
Yeah, Sinclair, I
hate to tell you this,
but your daughter is lying.
The mystery car,
it never existed.
Are you certain of that?
Dead. She made the
whole thing up.
Shit.
Look, I thought I
was past all this.
Victoria's been difficult
ever since she was a child.
Uh, mood swings, anger, anxiety.
We had her seen by the best.
One doctor thought,
well, maybe she's bipolar
or slightly autistic or
something, I don't know.
She's been on meds.
Ritalin, clozapine.
It all seemed to
work for a while
while she was growing up,
but lately, her behavior
is just-just... it's worse.
Uh, yeah, I keep
thinking, maybe...
maybe-maybe I had a
hand in all this, huh?
You know, too much
nose to the grindstone.
You know what I mean.
Living next door to me
when I was six or so
was a kid named Dick Hoare.
I swear to God. Hoare.
Hoare. H-O-A-R-E.
Why his parents
would name him Dick,
yeah, I'll never understand.
But he was a good guy,
despite being latch-key.
I mean, he was without any
kind of parental supervision.
Totally on his own.
Yeah, and he turned
out okay, right?
No, actually, he fell
out of a window drunk.
Your point is?
You can tough-love a kid
and you can no-love a kid.
It doesn't matter.
They're gonna be who
they're gonna be.
I'll keep an eye on Victoria.
I will catch her if she falls.
Thank you.
Jenny, I'm so glad you're here.
Oh, I love this place.
In every corner,
another adventure.
- Hey, is that Father Doyle?
- Yeah.
He volunteers here.
I was thinking maybe
you could start
by helping me organize
today's lunch delivery.
We send meals to an AIDS
hospice over on Fremont Street.
Well, I'm ready to
roll up my sleeves.
Good. Follow me.
Hey, Sue, could you just,
could you give me a sec?
Yeah, meet me over
by the pantry.
Okay.
Mrs. Rohr.
Yeah, get formal on
me, I'll belt you.
How are you, Jenny?
- I'm good. Yeah.
- Yeah?
Also, uh, you know,
a little surprised.
I thought the Catholic Church
was kind of anti-homosexual,
let alone women's
reproductive rights.
Well, that's the
Church. That's not me.
I see you're out of uniform.
Uh, I'm on sabbatical.
Oh.
Time to take a hard look
in the mirror and just
sort out what I'm
doing with my life.
Well, facing yourself, that
takes a lot of courage.
Something wrong, Jenny?
Something on your mind?
Nah, I'm just, I'm making
lunches for the hospice.
Excuse me.
I'm looking for a Juan
Correa, the site foreman.
- He has the day off.
- Well, he was here
the day Hernando Mendoza
was injured, correct?
I don't know. That
was my day off.
Hey.
What the Sam Hill kind
of poison you giving me?
It's green tea, Pop.
A healthy change.
No wonder all those boys up in
Boston tossed the tea overboard.
I checked in with Siobhan.
She sends her love.
Decourcy,
for a big-time D.A.,
you don't lie very well.
Hey, don't start. I
ain't trying to fight.
Who's fighting?
I didn't bring the
girl up. You did.
- Decourcy.
- Yeah, thanks for coming.
- And who might you be?
- This is Dr. Baez.
Uh, Siobhan's friend Dr. Mack
recommended him. He's, uh...
What's he want?
Hello, Mr. Ward. I'm
a surgical oncologist.
Um, your son asked me to
come by for a consultation.
I'm sorry my son dragged you
here, Dr. Baez, for no reason.
Mr. Ward, maybe if I could
just take a look at you,
I might be able to suggest
alternative treatments?
God is the only medicine I need.
Now get out!
Both of you.
See you, Father.
Please, call me Diarmuid.
Or Dermo.
- Dermo?
- Yeah.
Jenny, uh, feel free to tell me
to mind my own business here,
but you really do
seem under a cloud.
Oh, well, maybe I am.
Who knows, you know?
I'm still a good listener,
even without the collar.
And you know I'm on your side.
Not always.
Yeah, true.
The hurt that I caused you
is all part of this
reckoning that I've endured.
A reckoning which
may cause me to leave
the priesthood permanently.
Sorry, here I am,
blithering on about myself
and you're the one
that's suffering.
Uh, talk to me.
Yeah, uh...
I don't know what's wrong.
I think I just got
something in my blind spot.
Is this about your father?
Your-your Aunt Lena
is a parishioner
and she likes to gossip.
Yeah, well, this might,
this might be about him.
Uh, maybe a bit
more. I don't know.
You know, I'm...
I don't know what the
fuck I'm talking about.
- Sorry.
Well, Jenny, I hope you do
make peace with your da.
You can't converse with a ghost.
Unless you're Demi Moore.
- Mr. Dryden, hi.
- Hi.
- May I come in?
- Uh, of course. Please.
Great.
Uh, Letitia said you
came by the house
and you were upset
about something?
Oh, uh, n-no, I mean...
I wasn't sure what
happened after dinner.
- I kind of blacked out.
- I'd be happy to explain.
But why don't you let me
pour some wine first, huh?
Lafite Rothschild 1963.
Robert Parker rated it 100.
Thank you.
Yes, so...
- that night...
- Did we sleep together?
Jesus, no.
I'm sorry. I've been, um...
I woke up the next
morning feeling as if,
you know, I had, uh...
like I'd been with someone.
A dream, perhaps?
I know the feeling.
When I first met
Letitia, I dreamed
about being in bed with her
long before we ever were.
The mind is a marvelous,
if somewhat confused
piece of machinery,
and fantasy is an
aphrodisiac, huh?
The truth is,
you have been attracted to
me since the day we met.
My wife noticed first.
You're probably
right. I'm sorry.
- No need to apologize. Hmm?
Nothing happened.
I'm a happily married man.
Oh, Jesus.
Hello?
I'm sorry, Victoria.
Sorry for what?
I know what happened...
at your house.
D-Dominique.
Something I couldn't stop.
Dominique, you're
not making sense.
Tell me what happened, slowly.
- I'm sorry.
- Dominique?
I'm so sorry.
Dominique, talk to me.
He was here.
Well, this beats the fuck out
of pissing in a coffee cup
on a cold winter stakeout
in the North End.
You fit
in well here, Jackie.
Who needs a full pension
with perks like these, right?
Yeah, amen.
Well, Letitia, she
raves about you.
- Nice lady.
- Yeah, she come on to you yet?
What? No, no. What
are you talking about?
Ah, come on, you
don't have to make excuses.
I know her. You're
her type exactly.
- Meaning?
- Unavailable.
Ah.
Well, you know, infidelity makes
a monster out of the best of us.
- Just like your buddy
the Minotaur over here.
I was never much for the
Greeks, but that one story,
that really struck a nerve.
So, Poseidon is pissed at
Minos, the king of Crete,
for not sacrificing
a prize bull to him,
so he makes Minos's
wife Pasiphaë
fall in love with
the same prize bull.
And she gets a slave to-to
build a cow out of wood
and hollow it out,
and she climbs inside
and the bull fucks her and
bingo, a monster is born.
Get the
fuck out of my way!
Dominique is dead!
She's fucking dead.
- Hey, whoa, whoa, hey.
- She-she overdosed last night.
You want to give my
daughter some space here?
What went on there?
Close the
fucking door behind you.
You
saw her last night.
What-what, what
are you talking about?
You saw
her last night!
What are
you talking about?
- What did you do to her?
- Just go.
Shh, just
calm down, calm down.
Do you know why
she died, you son of a bitch?
I didn't
know she died.
What
did you do to her?
I didn't do
anything to her, honey.
- Come on, now.
- I don't believe you.
I don't
believe you. You're lying.
No. Calm down.
Just calm down.
Don't
tell me to calm down.
I know you. You're lying.
What
did you do to her?
Congemi live here?
He's got nothing to say to you.
You got
nowhere to run, Anton!
- Fuck.
Fuck happened?
He fucking wheeled on me, Chris.
He wheeled on me.
You need me to be
your token Black boy.
I want you to do
your fucking job.
I'm asking to be polite.
Fuck you.
You can have it.
You have to remember,
Boston is a mistake.
The Mayflower was
never supposed to land
on Plymouth fucking Rock.
They were heading to
Virginia and got lost.
Boston only exists
because of someone's
shitty sense of direction.
Ah.
The prodigal pain
in the ass returns
to the scene of his many crimes.
And the prodigal drunk remains
steadfast in his self-loathing.
What are you drinking?
- You buying?
- I'm pouring.
Hennessy, right?
Wait, wait.
You work here?
Oh, my, how far the
mighty have fallen.
Nah.
Given the shit I went through
with that bitch
Shimizu this past year,
- tending bar is a promotion.
- Hmm.
And fuck you.
So, the roar became a whisper.
Again, fuck you.
That's five bucks.
You know, we're looking
for some investigators
down at the D.A.'s office.
You want me to say something?
You serious?
Fuck no.
Good.
'Cause guys that work for
you don't live that long.
You better go clean that up.
Not again, Jimmy.
Dispatch, we're arriving
on the scene right now.
We're approaching the residence.
Stand by. We're making contact.
Police. This is the police.
Residents or occupants, come
to the door and open it now.
All
right, cover, cover.
- We got one occupant, female.
- What the fuck is going on?
- Show me your hands now.
- Do you know what time it is?
I'm Karen Shimizu,
the U.S. attorney.
- What is this about?
- Step outside, ma'am.
We're responding to a call about
shots fired at this address.
- What? Gunshots?
- Yes, ma'am.
- Who called?
- A neighbor.
Well, that's bullshit.
I've been home alone
all night...
not shooting a gun, all right?
We got to sweep this house.
Stay with her.
Stand aside, please.
We are entering the residence.
Copy, dispatch. Stand by.
- Room is clear.
- All clear in here.
Dispatch, Ladder 44.
We've arrived at the scene.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Police
are here, too.
- Fuck you, Shimizu.
Dispatch,
there's no sign of fire here.
We're gonna go in and make sure.
Good night, Dominique.
How was that?
- Nice.
- Hmm.
Good night, Letitia.
Good night, Sinclair.
You look like a bird,
but you talk like a man.
- I've known all along
you were a bully, not a bird.
Maybe,
but I don't fool around.
You ever heard of
using a coaster?
Fucking Clutch Cargo.
I forgot how much I
love this fucking show.
In this one, Clutch
and Snowshoe Slednick
capture the Arctic Bird Giant,
but it's not actually
a bird giant.
It's just some fucking
asshole dressed like a bird
on fucking stilts.
It's genius. I
got to try that.
Goddamn it, is this
honestly my life?
What did I do now?
Jack shit is what you do.
You work at that bar from
6 to 2 in the morning.
I mean, you come home reeking
of booze, smoke and vomit.
You sleep till noon,
then you lie around here
drinking and farting
until you just shower
- and you leave again.
- "For many are called
but few are chosen."
Matthew 22:14.
Something's got to change.
Okay? There's-there's not
enough money coming in.
Minimum wage and 200
bucks a week in tips
isn't gonna cover
Benny's $20,000 dollar
room, board and tuition at NYU.
I'm scared.
"Fear kills more
people than death."
You know who said that?
General George S. Patton.
When Ike almost fired
George for slapping
that-that soldier in
Italy, did he panic? No.
Did he wuss out and
run to mama? No.
He stood his fucking ground
and marched into Berlin.
You didn't victoriously
march into Berlin.
Yeah, you were
fired from the FBI!
No. No, no, no. I quit.
And-and-and you're forgetting
the escape money
in the basement.
Yeah, which you've been
dipping into for months now.
- How much of that is left?
- Plenty. Tons. We're flush.
Don't worry about it.
We both know about growing
up with shitty fathers
- who couldn't provide.
- Oh.
Why you got to bring your
loser father into this?
The day that we got
married, you promised
that you would always take
good care of our family.
Well, now you're
breaking that promise.
So here are your choices:
you get a better job,
or we sell the house,
or I go back to work.
Pick one.
'Cause I'm not waiting
around for us to go broke.
Bozo, my friend,
we're in trouble.
- Your thoughts?
- Yeah. You're right.
Maybe I should make some calls.
Good talk.
Decourcy, come on in.
I want your opinion.
Which photo makes me
look less like a cunt
and more avuncular
and trustworthy?
Ooh. Uh, you want the truth?
- Yeah.
- I don't give a shit.
Now, why'd you
really call me in?
Ah. Have a seat.
I'm running for attorney general
of the Commonwealth
of Massachusetts.
God, saying the whole
thing sounds so good.
And why do I care?
I know you'll miss
me, but if I win,
I will leave this office with
eight months left in my term.
And the governor says I
can appoint my successor.
Which means,
if I chose you and you kick ass,
you could position yourself
to run for a full term in '94.
What's the catch?
You're not my only
potential choice.
Of course not.
You expect me to kiss your ass
and be you errand
boy to prove myself.
You, sir, are
fucking unbelievable.
But I'm still your fucking
boss, and what I say goes.
Read into this what you want.
I'm trying to help your career.
- You mean your career.
- Fuck's wrong with that?
As the Sicilians say, one
hand washes the other,
both hands wash the dick.
So, what I need is
excellence and convictions
to sell to the voting
public. Out of both of you.
Who's the other guy?
The other guy is a woman.
And she's on her way here now.
Mr. Ward, Blair Chavez.
Meeting you is an honor,
and working with you
will be a privilege.
It's nice to meet you, as well.
Given the circumstances.
Yes, the
circumstances are
- a little off-putting.
- Mm.
I don't even know why I'm under
consideration for your job.
You made headlines in Chicago,
putting that state senator away
for misuse of campaign funds.
You built a big,
splashy, successful case,
and that is what I expect
from the two of you.
He thinks his transparency
is comforting.
All I know is I will
need to lean on you
to learn how Suffolk
County works.
Happy to help.
Welcome to Boston.
Let the games begin.
Aw, that's nice.
Yeah, my dad used to take me
here, too, when I was little.
Mr. Suferin,
your former partner,
Officer Wallace, will
testify that you disobeyed
Sergeant Caysen's orders
by going into the house
where Anton Campbell
was cornered.
Wallace was right behind me
- when I...
- I'm not finished.
He will also testify
that Campbell
was not turning around.
Instead, you executed him
while others were
negotiating with him.
That Black bastard was firing.
- Every cop out front...
- Forensics do not lie.
He was shot in the
side of the head.
He wasn't facing you.
And that's why
you're being charged
under Title 18
U.S.C. Section 242
of the Federal Criminal Code.
A possible life sentence.
Miss Shimizu, I
assume you're here to save
the government time and money.
What's your offer?
PTC, and we recommend
15 years, not life.
- Fuck that!
- He was performing his duty.
His actions were justified.
No jury would ever
convict a cop of that.
His own partner
called Mr. Campbell's
death an assassination.
Officer Suferin's jacket
has over a dozen complaints
of racial animus for
which he was disciplined.
- I'm not a racist.
- Life or 15, Mr. Suferin.
Take the offer.
If it's a boy,
I'm thinking Russ Wallace
Jr. But is that okay?
- I mean, I don't know.
- Russ, the baby's not here yet.
You're getting all
tangled up for no reason.
We're a couple weeks away.
I'm just not sure
that I'm ready.
I mean...
holy shit, a fucking baby.
Every dad-to-be feels the same.
Then the day comes, you're
holding your baby boy or girl
in your arms, and in that
precious moment, you realize
in 16 years that kid's gonna
be saying, "Fuck you, Dad."
Thanks for
the sage advice, Sarge.
Go.
Ronnie Weskum!
This is the Boston Police.
We have you surrounded.
Step out of the vehicle
with your hands up
and walk backwards to my voice.
Ronnie! Step out of the vehicle!
Show me both your hands, then
walk backwards to my voice.
Don't fuck around, Ronnie.
Show me both your hands.
Gun! Gun!
- Suspect down.
- Down! Suspect down!
- He's down!
- Suspect down.
- All right, easy, easy. Move in.
- Moving in.
Officer down. Officer down.
Russ. Russ.
Stay here, man. Stay here.
Fuck.
Dad. Coaster.
Jesus Christ, you're more
like your mother every day.
You're hovering.
Yeah, I got to talk to
you about something.
How much you need?
I mean, that's a pretty
shitty conversation starter.
Come on, what makes you think
I'm always gonna
ask you for money?
- Get that, will you?
- Uh-huh.
Hi there. I'm Sinclair Dryden.
- Can I help you?
- Is your father home?
Let me check.
- Dad?
- Yeah, yeah.
Send him right in, Benny.
Thank you.
Jackie.
- It's good to see you.
- Sinclair.
- Still tan as a porn star.
- Let's sit in here.
- Yeah.
Uh, I don't know if
you got my message.
I-I called you. I-I
didn't hear back.
Yeah, I've done
too many wiretaps
to trust using a phone, huh?
Oh, boy.
Oh. Bad back, huh?
Yeah, playing football
at a family gathering.
Ever since, any change of the
weather makes my back ache.
Well, it wasn't aching...
What was it, five years ago?
When you punched
that U.S. attorney.
He deserved more of a beating.
His secretary started screaming.
You were the best SAC the
Boston Bureau ever had.
It's a shame that that pansy's
broken jaw cost you your job.
I fell on my own sword,
like a man should.
You've done the
same, or so I hear.
- You landed on your feet.
- Well, like I said
in my message, you know,
I'm-I'm doing some consulting.
You know, a little of
this, little of that.
Back when I was running
the Boston Bureau,
I let you pick your own
music, dance your own dance.
No questions asked. I
could depend on you.
You still can.
That's why I want to hire you.
Look, I think this could be
a perfect situation
for both of us.
I made a lot of enemies in
the course of my career.
And lately, uh, things
have started to happen.
Tires slashed, my
wife gets harassed.
A couple of nights ago, a car
follows my daughter Victoria
onto our driveway,
parks right behind her
and stays there a while.
Scared her to death.
- You have surveillance cameras?
- Yes, but there's
a gap in the tape at the
time of the incident.
Look, Jackie, I know
you've been slinging hooch
at the 21st Amendment.
But that's a waste
of Jackie Rohr.
You need a job, and I need
somebody who knows his shit.
As your head of security?
Oh, I'm not worried
about myself.
But I am afraid for Letitia and
my daughter when I'm not around.
2,000 bucks a week, cash.
That's almost $50,000 dollars
more than you were making
working for Uncle, and
no, you do not have time
- to talk to your wife.
Yeah, all right.
I'll see you at my house at
10 a.m. tomorrow morning.
Oh. Mount Vernon Street,
huh? Beacon Hill.
Must be nice to always
get what you came for.
An advance.
I'll show myself out.
- Bendrops.
How much you need?
Dr. Stewart, please dial 2126.
- Dr. Stewart, please dial 2126.
- Russ just died.
- Carol, I'm so sorry.
- No. No, no, no,
no, no, no, no.
It was Blair Chavez,
some hotshot A.D.A.
out of Chicago.
Guy Dan hired her to...
To fuck with my head.
Well, then, that's simple.
Don't let her fuck
with your head.
Look...
I want to be Suffolk County D.A.
Then I'd get the chance to
actually make the changes
that need to be made.
- Hello?
- Decourcy, hey.
Hey, Louie. What's up, man?
So, listen, uh,
I was out on patrol
when I got a call.
Pop collapsed in
front of the house.
Wait, what? Is he okay?
He seems to be.
The-the paramedics can't figure
out what's wrong with him.
Well, what did the doctors say?
That stubborn old fool
won't go see a doctor.
He says he's fine.
He's upstairs sleeping.
I'll be in Brooklyn
as soon as I can.
All right, I'll see you.
I haven't heard
you whistle in months.
"Man starts over
again every day,
in spite of all he knows,
against all he knows."
You sure you want to
work in Beacon Hill?
Yesterday you said I
was a lazy shit-bum.
You compared me to
your degenerate father
and you beat my balls
like scrambled eggs.
So, yeah, two grand a week cash
to make sure that
Dryden's doors are locked?
That's the right decision.
I know you, Jackie.
Nah, there's more to
this than just the money.
You like feeling
like a cop again.
Wrong.
I don't miss that life
a single fucking bit.
Good for you.
You got your first lie of
the day out of the way.
Hernando's been hit.
He's got a fucking rod
through his fucking
head. Get help.
Call an ambulance.
This is site 22.
We've had an accident.
We need an ambulance.
How you doing?
- Fuck.
Officer Suferin
refused my offer.
Never should
have put one on the table.
That bastard deserves life in
prison, no chance at parole.
Sorry keeping you guys waiting.
You should've called.
Yeah, I should've. I should've
done a lot of fucking things.
Look, I have tons
of things to do
before I head to
Brooklyn tomorrow.
Chris, did Officer Wallace
ever contradict his statement
about Suferin murdering
Anton Campbell?
Uh, no. He, uh...
At first, he was
hesitant to say anything,
but he came around.
Russ knew he had to
do what was right.
And now he's dead. Apparently,
shot by another cop.
Ballistics report
came in this morning.
Did you read it?
Looks like one of your
guys killed Wallace.
It's not a house fire.
We still have his
sworn statement.
No, but a living witness is
better than a piece of paper.
- What's this?
- Either a blessing or a curse.
You heard about that
accident that happened
at the Big Dig site
near South Street?
Oh, the crane gave
way or something?
What happened was a
little more graphic.
Meet Hernando Mendoza.
Ooh. Sweet Jesus.
That's
probably who saved him.
- Mendoza survived this?
- Mm-hmm.
He's in the hospital.
Doctors aren't sure how much
he'll recover, if at all.
The family wants to sue,
but no law firm in the city
will represent him because...
Because this is Tip
O'Neill's love child.
Anyone who
fucks with the Big Dig
is gonna get crushed.
You up for taking on Goliath?
- I'll get my slingshot.
How are you?
Jackie Rohr for Sinclair Dryden?
- Thanks.
- Mrs. Dryden will be
- right with you.
- Okay.
- Uh, what, in here?
- Yes, please.
Little much, right?
Kind of wins the "look at us,
aren't we fucking
royalty" award.
Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dryden.
Uh, Jackie Rohr.
Doesn't do you justice.
I know. I've
put on a little weight.
Oh, no, no, no, that's
not what I meant. I was...
Jackie, let's be on
a first-name basis.
- I'm Letitia.
- Okay.
Come on. I'll, uh,
show you the house.
- Huh. House?
Where I come from, you could
fit a house in this room.
Oh, you play pool?
Yes, but not like you think.
You know, I've seen
you on the news.
You arrested those armored
car thieves in Charlestown,
shut down that drug
ring in Roxbury.
Are you some kind of superhero?
You got a cape
under that jacket?
Good
morning, Mrs. Dryden.
Dominique, hi. Um,
this is Mr. Rohr.
Mr. Rohr, Dominique
is a classmate
- of Sinclair's daughter.
- Nice to meet you.
Mrs. Dryden, I, um...
Was I here on Sunday night?
You had dinner with us, yes.
I-I remember dinner. Did
I, uh, did I sleep here?
Dominique, where did you
wake up in the morning?
A-At my apartment,
but there are, um,
gaps that I-I can't recall.
Well,
you had a lot of wine
- and you dozed on the couch.
We had our driver take you home.
Dom, I told you that we
were gonna study upstairs.
Jackie, meet my
stepdaughter Victoria.
Hey. Jackie Rohr.
Mr. Rohr
is looking out
for the family's security now.
Oh, don't tell me
Father finally fired
poor old drooling Freddie.
Uh, Victoria, your-your dad said
that you were followed into
the driveway the other night.
I want to ask you
a couple questions.
Later. I'm busy. Come on, Dom.
Uh, nice to meet you.
He's on the payroll. You
don't have to be polite.
Ah, listen, you know,
my daughter Benedetta,
- she can be...
- No, save your breath.
- Victoria is a class-A bitch.
If I can't remember
two nights ago,
how will I remember how long U
Thant led the United Nations?
Don't worry. I will make
you some flash cards.
Look, we have to get you into
the Kennedy School of Government.
- You need to rule the world.
You've been studying
like crazy for weeks.
You're gonna crush the exam.
Or I will kick your ass.
Hey.
Sorry I got so drunk
the other night.
- I didn't mean to embarrass you.
- I told you,
you should've let me and
Moustafa drive you home
instead of staying for
one of Dad's nightcaps.
Lesson learned.
Uh, so, Sinclair
mentioned something
- about you being harassed.
As usual, my husband's
being overly dramatic.
I had an argument with
my tennis partner.
He swung his racket at me.
It's really nothing
to sweat about.
This is your office.
Wow.
So who was your last
security guy? James Bond?
Jackie, do you
like this perfume?
Well, if that was a drug,
it would be illegal.
I can already see
how clever you are.
I'll let you settle in.
Uh, she'll need fall and
winter stuff for New York.
When you drop her at NYU, the
two of you should go shopping.
Oh, right, Sue. You know
Jackie would have a fit.
That's funny.
Last year, I'm giving
you all this shit
about not staying
married to Jackie and...
And now you're the divorced one.
The irony is intoxicating.
Do you know the Drydens?
You and Cabot ever
hang out with them?
We waved to each other at
fundraisers and the opera.
Back in the bad old days,
Sinclair Dryden's family
owned all the land from
the Common to Back Bay.
The one to watch
out for is Letitia.
She just ended an affair
with her tennis pro.
They're still cleaning
his blood off the asphalt.
- The daughter is...
- Hi, Sue.
- Hi, Benny.
- Ma, what are you doing?
I'm helping out.
I'm going to college,
not summer camp.
- I'll get this done my way.
- Okay, okay.
- You want a soda?
- Yeah.
Benny's in such a great place.
Oh, yeah, I'm so proud of her.
I mean, she's been a
champion with the recovery.
She really committed
to her sobriety.
My Clara, too.
She got her two-year
chip last weekend.
- Aw. Cheers.
Can I share something?
Yeah, of course.
Clara recently
told me she's gay.
Geez. What?
Yeah.
Telling me was hard for her.
She was afraid how I'd react.
Well, God, who can blame her?
I mean, look at the world.
Uh, look at this neighborhood.
When you and I were growing
up, I mean, life sucked
for anyone who wasn't
perfect-looking, let alone gay.
Yeah, I...
I love Clara for
having the courage
to just come out and
say who she is out loud.
You know? Good for her.
Oh, I got to go.
- Well...
- I'm volunteering
at the Nichols Center
to support Clara.
They work with AIDS
patients, advocacy,
- women's reproductive rights.
- Hmm.
Only problem is
they're shorthanded.
Hey, now that your
nest is empty,
- maybe you'd want to help.
- Oh, God.
Jackie would hate that.
Yeah, but I'd love to. Yes.
Thanks, Sue.
What are you hiding,
the phone numbers
of your old Brooklyn
girlfriends?
We talked about this.
I need this to keep us safe.
All right? I-I'm not gonna
be caught off guard again.
No, I understand.
Just seeing the gun
scared me a little.
I know you feel we
need one in the house.
I just wish I felt the same.
- Did you connect with your dad?
- No.
Every time I call,
he's sleeping.
I should go with you, baby.
Hey, let's be honest. I know
you don't like my father.
That's a polite way of
saying he doesn't like me.
I know you were pissed he
didn't come check on you
at the hospital
after the shooting.
Bothered me more that he didn't
call after the miscarriage.
Well, I hope this
is nothing serious
and that he gets better
fast and you come home soon.
And you don't need that
many pair of socks.
If you overpack, I'll fear
you're not coming back.
Hey, you are the only
place I call home.
Mm, I guess I'll
call Callie and...
spend the night.
We haven't had girl
time in a while.
Hmm?
I love you, too.
How was your day?
I had a fun-filled luncheon
for Bangladeshi refugees.
Ooh.
- I went shopping.
- Ah.
Jackie Rohr.
Is he trustworthy?
Yes, completely. Why?
We may have a problem
with Dominique.
How so?
She's trying to put the pieces
of the other night together.
No worries. I'll talk to her.
Where is everyone?
Serving warrants in
Southie. Sosnoff Gang.
I built that case.
We all did.
Yeah, right.
Hey, hey, that's mine.
What?
That's my stapler.
Wallace needed to
staple something
the other day, so
he borrowed mine.
- Give it here.
Odd, you're more concerned
about a stapler than Wallace.
Nah. God rest him.
You see the ballistics report
on the round that killed him?
Not yet.
Bullet came from your gun.
The fuck you saying, Caysen?
I'm saying you blew
Wallace's head off.
That's why you're on a desk for
the foreseeable fucking future.
This is bullshit. Round
probably ricocheted
off one of them rusted anchors.
There was nothing
between you and Wallace.
I walked the scene
with Internal Affairs.
- You that bad a fucking shot?
- Oh, fuck you, Chris.
No, fuck you, Rick!
Fuck you!
Here, take your fucking stapler.
Who's
this handsome guy?
Moustafa Mody. Pleasure.
- Victoria, good time?
- Nope.
Uh, look, your father is paying
me to keep you all safe, so...
Rah, rah. Believe
this: I'm safe.
My dad is the one
who needs help.
I just want to ask you about
the night you were followed.
It'll only take a minute.
- What happened, Vick?
- Nothing.
Moustafa, could you
wait in the other room?
No fucking way.
Okay, suit yourself.
So, Thursday night,
you're driving home.
Were you aware that you
were being followed?
- No.
- What time did you pull
- into the driveway, roughly?
- 10:30.
Uh-huh. Well, did you get
a good look at the car?
Can you tell me the make?
The car was a car.
Could you see inside? Like,
who was in there, or...?
It was dark, Einstein.
Ah.
So, the car pulls in behind you
in the driveway and
it just sits there.
I-I don't know. It was dark and
I was fucking scared, all right?
Yeah, well, that-that
sounds scary.
It's-it's interesting that,
the exact time you
were being followed,
the security cameras conked out.
I don't know anything
about security cameras.
And what time did you
pull into the driveway?
10:30, and nice try.
My dad uses that trick.
- What trick?
- Asking me the same question
twice to see if the answer
changes to prove I'm lying.
Were you at a bar or a
restaurant that night?
Seriously?
...buried alive
in an underground bunker
near the Hudson River
by NYPD detectives.
A longtime employee of the
formal-wear manufacturer
has been arrested in
connection to the kidnapping.
Upon being found, the
68-year-old millionaire...
increasingly likely to pass
with vehement support
from borough residents
who feel neglected
by city government.
It's right here, on the right.
Thank you.
Hey, Pop.
Hey, son.
- Hey.
- What are you doing here?
- What's with the boxes?
- Just...
- removing some clutter.
- Yeah?
You know Louie called me, right?
Said you dropped out front
like Sonny Liston back in '65.
- I was at that fight.
- Oh, I know.
I remember Moms was upset
'cause you spent the milk money
- on a train ticket to Maine.
- She was right.
Wasted a lot of hard-earned
cash going to see a fixed fight.
Ali hit him with a right
in the first round.
Fight as fixed as
the Last Supper.
What you mean?
Judas never had a chance.
Why'd you collapse?
Oh...
- No big deal.
- Mm.
Got light-headed, you know?
Thank God the ground
broke my fall.
- Oh, the ground, right? Ah.
Pop, I know you.
Come on, man.
There's more going on here
than a little light-headedness.
I suss out the
truth for a living.
This, this here,
it's not gonna float.
I have cancer. Uh...
The pancreas.
But I'm A-okay.
What? You...
But th... pancreatic cancer
is, like, the most
aggressive cancer there is.
How-how
long have you known?
A couple of months.
Pop, two months with pancreatic
cancer is like an eternity.
What-what, what do
they got you on?
Is it chemo, radiation?
What are we doing...
Nothing. I didn't
want any of that.
- I don't understand.
- It's simple.
I'm not doing therapies.
What... So, if-if you
hadn't fallen the other day,
- then what...
- I didn't ask you to come.
- Pop, I'm back.
Oh, shit, man, I thought
I'd beat you home.
- Come here.
- What's up, man?
I got us lunch.
Did I invite you boys
to stay for lunch?
Did you know about Pop's cancer?
He told me this morning.
Enough of this
self-righteous indignation.
I'm gonna dance.
Excuse me.
My name is Siobhan
Quays, from the ACLU.
I-I'm Lourdes Mendoza,
Hernando's sister.
This is Pepe, his son.
Nice to meet you, Pepe.
Have you spoken to
the doctors today?
They say, uh,
he-he might not walk again.
He could lose his eyesight.
He will probably have to
live out his life in a home.
Has anyone from
the construction company
or the city come
to speak with you
about insurance or
covering medical costs?
The first night in the ER, yes.
They explained that he
gets workers' compensation.
How is that enough?
I can't support Pepe
on a paycheck that
barely supports me.
I don't want you to worry.
I'm going to fight
for your family.
What are we gonna do about Pop?
We're gonna
respect his wishes.
Make him comfortable.
And let him die
on his own terms.
- I disagree.
- It doesn't matter.
The decision is not up to you.
You know, when Mom was
diagnosed with cancer,
he was relentless,
fighting to keep her alive.
We... I say we get him a doctor.
I have been on point taking
care of him all this time.
Where have you been?
- That's not fair, Louie.
- Yeah, no shit.
You can't just drop
in and take charge.
He is who he is.
You know that. Why
are you forcing this?
'Cause I don't believe he's
got no more fight left in him.
And I'd miss him.
Nice shot.
Hey. You want a drink?
It's got to be five
o'clock somewhere.
So, I went through the files
of the six guys that might
- have a vendetta against you.
- Yeah?
Two are dead, two are in prison,
one is born-again and
living in Venezuela.
And number six?
Well, him I took an interest in.
Lyle Pike. I-I couldn't find
him, so I did some digging,
and it turns out that
he changed his identity.
His name, his date
of birth, his social,
the whole fucking nine...
Even dyed his hair.
He's living in
Worcester hiding out
from some loan sharks
who want him dead.
So I knocked on his door
and I told him that...
if he ever came within
a mile of this zip code,
I would put his new
name and address
on the front page of The Globe.
Lyle Pike was always
a chickenshit.
I also spoke to Victoria about
the night that she was followed.
Yeah, she told me.
She wasn't happy.
Yeah, Sinclair, I
hate to tell you this,
but your daughter is lying.
The mystery car,
it never existed.
Are you certain of that?
Dead. She made the
whole thing up.
Shit.
Look, I thought I
was past all this.
Victoria's been difficult
ever since she was a child.
Uh, mood swings, anger, anxiety.
We had her seen by the best.
One doctor thought,
well, maybe she's bipolar
or slightly autistic or
something, I don't know.
She's been on meds.
Ritalin, clozapine.
It all seemed to
work for a while
while she was growing up,
but lately, her behavior
is just-just... it's worse.
Uh, yeah, I keep
thinking, maybe...
maybe-maybe I had a
hand in all this, huh?
You know, too much
nose to the grindstone.
You know what I mean.
Living next door to me
when I was six or so
was a kid named Dick Hoare.
I swear to God. Hoare.
Hoare. H-O-A-R-E.
Why his parents
would name him Dick,
yeah, I'll never understand.
But he was a good guy,
despite being latch-key.
I mean, he was without any
kind of parental supervision.
Totally on his own.
Yeah, and he turned
out okay, right?
No, actually, he fell
out of a window drunk.
Your point is?
You can tough-love a kid
and you can no-love a kid.
It doesn't matter.
They're gonna be who
they're gonna be.
I'll keep an eye on Victoria.
I will catch her if she falls.
Thank you.
Jenny, I'm so glad you're here.
Oh, I love this place.
In every corner,
another adventure.
- Hey, is that Father Doyle?
- Yeah.
He volunteers here.
I was thinking maybe
you could start
by helping me organize
today's lunch delivery.
We send meals to an AIDS
hospice over on Fremont Street.
Well, I'm ready to
roll up my sleeves.
Good. Follow me.
Hey, Sue, could you just,
could you give me a sec?
Yeah, meet me over
by the pantry.
Okay.
Mrs. Rohr.
Yeah, get formal on
me, I'll belt you.
How are you, Jenny?
- I'm good. Yeah.
- Yeah?
Also, uh, you know,
a little surprised.
I thought the Catholic Church
was kind of anti-homosexual,
let alone women's
reproductive rights.
Well, that's the
Church. That's not me.
I see you're out of uniform.
Uh, I'm on sabbatical.
Oh.
Time to take a hard look
in the mirror and just
sort out what I'm
doing with my life.
Well, facing yourself, that
takes a lot of courage.
Something wrong, Jenny?
Something on your mind?
Nah, I'm just, I'm making
lunches for the hospice.
Excuse me.
I'm looking for a Juan
Correa, the site foreman.
- He has the day off.
- Well, he was here
the day Hernando Mendoza
was injured, correct?
I don't know. That
was my day off.
Hey.
What the Sam Hill kind
of poison you giving me?
It's green tea, Pop.
A healthy change.
No wonder all those boys up in
Boston tossed the tea overboard.
I checked in with Siobhan.
She sends her love.
Decourcy,
for a big-time D.A.,
you don't lie very well.
Hey, don't start. I
ain't trying to fight.
Who's fighting?
I didn't bring the
girl up. You did.
- Decourcy.
- Yeah, thanks for coming.
- And who might you be?
- This is Dr. Baez.
Uh, Siobhan's friend Dr. Mack
recommended him. He's, uh...
What's he want?
Hello, Mr. Ward. I'm
a surgical oncologist.
Um, your son asked me to
come by for a consultation.
I'm sorry my son dragged you
here, Dr. Baez, for no reason.
Mr. Ward, maybe if I could
just take a look at you,
I might be able to suggest
alternative treatments?
God is the only medicine I need.
Now get out!
Both of you.
See you, Father.
Please, call me Diarmuid.
Or Dermo.
- Dermo?
- Yeah.
Jenny, uh, feel free to tell me
to mind my own business here,
but you really do
seem under a cloud.
Oh, well, maybe I am.
Who knows, you know?
I'm still a good listener,
even without the collar.
And you know I'm on your side.
Not always.
Yeah, true.
The hurt that I caused you
is all part of this
reckoning that I've endured.
A reckoning which
may cause me to leave
the priesthood permanently.
Sorry, here I am,
blithering on about myself
and you're the one
that's suffering.
Uh, talk to me.
Yeah, uh...
I don't know what's wrong.
I think I just got
something in my blind spot.
Is this about your father?
Your-your Aunt Lena
is a parishioner
and she likes to gossip.
Yeah, well, this might,
this might be about him.
Uh, maybe a bit
more. I don't know.
You know, I'm...
I don't know what the
fuck I'm talking about.
- Sorry.
Well, Jenny, I hope you do
make peace with your da.
You can't converse with a ghost.
Unless you're Demi Moore.
- Mr. Dryden, hi.
- Hi.
- May I come in?
- Uh, of course. Please.
Great.
Uh, Letitia said you
came by the house
and you were upset
about something?
Oh, uh, n-no, I mean...
I wasn't sure what
happened after dinner.
- I kind of blacked out.
- I'd be happy to explain.
But why don't you let me
pour some wine first, huh?
Lafite Rothschild 1963.
Robert Parker rated it 100.
Thank you.
Yes, so...
- that night...
- Did we sleep together?
Jesus, no.
I'm sorry. I've been, um...
I woke up the next
morning feeling as if,
you know, I had, uh...
like I'd been with someone.
A dream, perhaps?
I know the feeling.
When I first met
Letitia, I dreamed
about being in bed with her
long before we ever were.
The mind is a marvelous,
if somewhat confused
piece of machinery,
and fantasy is an
aphrodisiac, huh?
The truth is,
you have been attracted to
me since the day we met.
My wife noticed first.
You're probably
right. I'm sorry.
- No need to apologize. Hmm?
Nothing happened.
I'm a happily married man.
Oh, Jesus.
Hello?
I'm sorry, Victoria.
Sorry for what?
I know what happened...
at your house.
D-Dominique.
Something I couldn't stop.
Dominique, you're
not making sense.
Tell me what happened, slowly.
- I'm sorry.
- Dominique?
I'm so sorry.
Dominique, talk to me.
He was here.
Well, this beats the fuck out
of pissing in a coffee cup
on a cold winter stakeout
in the North End.
You fit
in well here, Jackie.
Who needs a full pension
with perks like these, right?
Yeah, amen.
Well, Letitia, she
raves about you.
- Nice lady.
- Yeah, she come on to you yet?
What? No, no. What
are you talking about?
Ah, come on, you
don't have to make excuses.
I know her. You're
her type exactly.
- Meaning?
- Unavailable.
Ah.
Well, you know, infidelity makes
a monster out of the best of us.
- Just like your buddy
the Minotaur over here.
I was never much for the
Greeks, but that one story,
that really struck a nerve.
So, Poseidon is pissed at
Minos, the king of Crete,
for not sacrificing
a prize bull to him,
so he makes Minos's
wife Pasiphaë
fall in love with
the same prize bull.
And she gets a slave to-to
build a cow out of wood
and hollow it out,
and she climbs inside
and the bull fucks her and
bingo, a monster is born.
Get the
fuck out of my way!
Dominique is dead!
She's fucking dead.
- Hey, whoa, whoa, hey.
- She-she overdosed last night.
You want to give my
daughter some space here?
What went on there?
Close the
fucking door behind you.
You
saw her last night.
What-what, what
are you talking about?
You saw
her last night!
What are
you talking about?
- What did you do to her?
- Just go.
Shh, just
calm down, calm down.
Do you know why
she died, you son of a bitch?
I didn't
know she died.
What
did you do to her?
I didn't do
anything to her, honey.
- Come on, now.
- I don't believe you.
I don't
believe you. You're lying.
No. Calm down.
Just calm down.
Don't
tell me to calm down.
I know you. You're lying.
What
did you do to her?