Crossing Jordan (2001–2007): Season 1, Episode 17 - Crime & Punishment - full transcript

Jordan helps Woody with the case of a woman who is into sexual sadism. Bug has to see the shrink after he accuses the parents of an autistic boy of murder. Garrett is seeing his ex-wife. Lily goes on holiday to see her brother on Mexico.

(ROCK 'N' ROLL MUSIC PLAYING)

(BEEPING)

Nigel, have you seen Lily? She's
got some papers I need to sign.

No, no, I haven't seen her.

(BEEPING CONTINUES)

Are you about to
blow something up?

Maybe.

Well, don't.

Damn.

Lily, I've been looking for
you. Do you have... Yeah.

You going somewhere?



Yes, Dr. Macy. I'm off to
visit my brother in Mexico.

Just thought I'd come
by and say adiós.

I wish you'd told
me this sooner.

You signed a vacation
request form two weeks ago.

Don't sweat it.

I can't expect you to remember every
little piece of paper you initial, can I?

Let me help you. I'm fine.

Lily, I hope this doesn't have
anything to do with you and me.

I'm just gonna get some sun

and lie on the beach

and get really stinking drunk.

Have a lovely week, Dr. Macy.

Lilita! Hasta luego and...

Oh, don't forget my
tequila. Oh, yeah.



And remember, no worm.

Of course.

Bye, Dr. C.

So you knew she
was going to Mexico?

Sure, she's only been talking
about it for, like, a month, man.

Guess I've been
a little distracted.

And would this distraction happen
to answer to the name of Maggie?

(PHONE RINGING)

(SIGHS)

Macy.

Yeah, she's here right now.

Okay, I'll send her right over.

Dispatch has got a decedent in a
motel on Columbus just off the Skyway.

They requested you personally.

Hooking up with your ex,
driving Lily out of the country,

I'd say you got a lot of
balls in the air, there, Chief.

Body's getting cold, Jordan.

Yeah, yeah.

(EXPLOSION)

(ALARM RINGING)

Woody.

Doc? Stuck together
again. Must be karma, huh?

Either that or you keep telling
dispatch to specifically request me.

So what do we got?

Night maid came in, saw this.

Lividity's consistent with
the position of the body.

She's been dead
at least two hours.

Sheets are gone.

Someone must have been
cleaning up after themselves.

Yeah, everything's been wiped
down. Not a print in the house.

There is a big hole by
the phone jack right here.

Maid said it was
not there before.

Peeping Tom?

No. Doesn't go all
the way through.

So, Doc, what is
she telling you?

Possible strangulation.
Thumb marks on the neck.

Anyone see who
was in here with her?

The desk clerk said she checked in
alone, registered under "Jane Smith."

You think that's an alias?

(SIGHS)

No prints, no ID.
Heck, no clothes.

Oh, we did find
these on the dresser.

"Q Storage."

CHESTER: Quiet broad. JORDAN:
Oh? What did she store in here?

CHESTER: Not much. She
just liked to hang out in there.

WOODY: Who hangs
out in a storage facility?

None of my business.

This woman, she give you a
name when she rented the unit?

I got the card
back in the office.

Jane, uh...

Let me guess. Smith?

Yeah, that's it.

Here we go.

(INDIAN-SOUNDING
POP MUSIC PLAYING)

Jeez, Louise.

Well! Looks like our
girl had herself a hobby.

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Whips and chains?

Yep.

(EXCLAIMS IN DISGUST)

See, I understand the whips,

but what does one do
with the chains, exactly?

Oh, they're more for
show, cosmetic thing.

From what I hear!

Uh-huh.

Oh, hello. Look at the minute
punctures on her thumb.

Definitely ante-mortem.

Thumb screws. She was tortured.

If we're assuming she wasn't
restrained, she probably enjoyed it.

(SIGHS)

What?

Hmm? Oh, nothing. I just realized
how tragically boring my life is.

(CAMERA CLICKS)

Look, it's not my problem
if you didn't receive them,

it's my problem if
I didn't send them.

And I sent them!

(STAMMERING) Hold on.

May I help you?

No, I'll wait. Finish your call.

Yeah.

Yes, I know they're
time-sensitive. They're eggs.

(WHIRRING)

No, I do not have
a tracking number.

Can you put that down, please?

Sorry.

Huh?

Yeah.

No.

Look, I'm gonna
have to call you back.

Okay, I'll do that.
You're welcome.

Jackass.

Some people, huh?

Can I help you, Dr. Stiles?

I was hoping we could talk.

About what?

Oh, I don't know, the
usual. The weather,

how cheery life is
here in the morgue.

What is this?

What is what?

You're a shrink. Why
do we need to talk?

Oh, I don't know. So
you can feel better?

And who says I
need to feel better?

Doesn't everyone
need to feel better?

I feel fine! No, you don't.

(SCOFFS)

You're trying to provoke me.

Is it working?

You're not a very good shrink.

(SCOFFS) You got that right.

But, uh, you're
still stuck with me.

Now, they sent me the
incident report, so we should talk.

How about the conference room?

Say, uh, elevenish?

Sounds like I
don't have a choice.

It does, doesn't it?

Doesn't matter because... Whoa!
Hey, uh, Doc, I was looking for you.

Nigel. Hey, Woodrow.
What it is, mate?

You guys find
anything interesting?

Yeah, you could say that.
Thumb screws, toe screws,

and judging from
her collapsed larynx,

the death squeeze was the last
in a very long line of squeezes.

Anything from the rape kit?

No. No fluids, no
condom residue.

So we have a naked woman who was
choked and tortured to death, but no sex.

Yeah, whatever this
was about, it was not sex.

Any luck with your prints?

Uh, yeah, RMV has
her as Marsha Schraber,

37, married,
address in the burbs.

Her husband have an alibi?

He's gonna be at the
precinct in an hour.

(HESITANTLY) You could
come down and watch if you want.

I mean, if you're not
doing anything, or...

Yeah. No, cool. I'll be there.

Okay! Great!

All right. Well, uh,
I'll see you then.

Yeah.

(SINGSONGING)
Jordan's got a boyfriend!

Oh, you want to yank
on my pigtails, too, Nige?

'Cause I got
cheerleading practice.

Come on. That sweet country
innocence? Those sparkling blue eyes?

I would chew him
up and spit him out!

Ah, now, that sounds like fun.

(EXCLAIMS)

I can't believe
this is happening.

Anything you can
tell me about your wife

would really help
us out, Mr. Schraber.

Any friends we could talk to?

Marsha doesn't...

Didn't have friends. She
was a very private person.

You said you haven't seen
your wife in over a week,

but you never filed a
missing-persons report?

It wasn't the first
time she disappeared.

(HESITANTLY) We weren't
really getting on very well.

Are you aware your wife rented
a unit at Q Storage downtown?

No, I didn't know that.

Then why were your prints in it?

You...

You were in there.

Jerry,

(QUIETLY) is there
something you want to tell me?

Marsha spent
hours on her laptop.

I got the feeling she
was making friends.

One day while she was out, I
tried to check her correspondence,

but I tripped some
sort of security bug.

Next day, the computer
disappeared. So did she.

When did you go to
the storage facility?

I followed her there
once, but I didn't go in.

Then when she
disappeared, I was worried,

so two days ago, I went back,

bribed the day man to let me
inside. Marsha wasn't there.

But your prints were.

What were you looking for?

I am a respected attorney.

If there is any way
you could ensure

that none of this
could be made public...

Jerry.

You take something
out of that room?

The laptop.

I thought we were
supposed to talk.

Great! Let's talk.

Aren't you supposed
to ask me something?

Am I?

(SCOFFS)

And you actually
get paid for this.

You don't want to
be here, do you?

Oh, you are good.

Thanks.

So what? You want me
to talk about the incident?

Let's back up.

What caused the incident?

A disagreement.

A disagreement with
whom? And about what?

Dr. Macy. A case.

Fantastic! Now we're
getting somewhere.

Feel better yet?

Okay.

Tell me about this case.

Last week, the police brought
in a dead boy, Brian Kirsh.

They asked for a blind autopsy.

STILES: What's that?

When the police think that the M.E. might
have to eventually testify in a trial,

they don't tell us
anything on the admit.

It eliminates potential bias.

This detective didn't tell me under
what circumstances the boy was found.

He just wanted the medical facts.
Cause of death, method of death.

STILES: Anything
striking about Brian Kirsh?

Striking?

Well, what was your first
impression, looking at his body?

Nothing.

I see lots of dead bodies.

First thing that
pops into your mind.

He was wearing muddy sneakers.

The laces on one were untied.

Go on.

I performed the
autopsy with Dr. Sanders.

The boy was covered in bruises.

Arms,

legs,

chest,

back.

Some of them were a week
old. Others were more recent.

There was also considerable
damage to the head.

Doctor.

Yes?

What happened next?

The detective was pushing
for a quick preliminary ruling.

And it was obvious
what had happened.

The cause of death
was repeated abuse.

Method: homicide.

What did you feel
making that determination?

I didn't feel anything.

Of course not.

NIGEL: So our girl spent a lot
of time surfing the net, did she?

Uh, you might want to be
careful what you push, there.

Her husband said she
may have installed security.

So, what, you think a
middle-aged Hausfrau

could design a
system worthy of me?

FEMALE VOICE:
Welcome back, bitch.

If you're ready to be punished,
please enter password.

(SCOFFS) All righty, then!

Password, eh?

Righty-o, let's give
"dominatrix" a try, shall we?

(STAMMERING) You uh,
may not want to do that.

(SINISTER LAUGHTER)

Okay, this doesn't look good.

FEMALE VOICE:
Warning. Unauthorized user.

A tapeworm will be
employed in 30 seconds.

Tapeworm? What
the hell's a tapeworm?

It's a self-manifesting virus
designed to eat the hard drive.

In 30 seconds, this thing's
gonna be about as useful

as a toaster that
does not make toast.

Oh, what do you know
about self-manifesting viruses?

Hey, there are computers in
Wisconsin. Maybe if you had listened...

Oh, I suppose you
could do better, then?

Hey, if you hadn't messed
up and typed "dominatrix..."

I barely touched
it! What are you...

You guys, you can arm-wrestle
later. Woody, just get in there!

Be my guest. Excuse me.

Okay. Let's see
what we can do here.

Oh, she is a
smart one, all right.

Okey-doke. Ten seconds.

No, no, no, no, no.

All right, let's see
how you like this.

You broke it. I didn't break it.

Did, too. Did not.

Did, too! Did not!

Did, too! Password accepted.

Let's play.

We're in.

Okay, it's a file
created a week ago.

I think it's a
compressed digital photo.

(INDIAN-SOUNDING
POP MUSIC PLAYING)

Want to tell me how a dead woman

got a photo of her own
murder scene onto her computer

a week before she died?

(SINGSONGING SOFTLY) Woody.

Time for school.

Five more minutes, Mama.

Mama? I haven't heard
that one in a while.

Hey. I must have fallen asleep.

I brought you coffee.
Just the way you like it.

Extra cream and six sugars.

Sugar's good for you, you know.

Mmm!

Oh, jeez!

(WOODY HUMMING TO HIMSELF)

(WHISPERS) Ah.

Oh, uh, do you mind?

Oh! No! No.

So, uh, you figure out how
Marsha predicted her own death?

I did a pixel count
on that digital photo.

It's bogus. Cut-and-paste job.

She probably posed for it herself,
played dead for whatever reason.

Something kinky is
afoot, that's for sure.

Hey, what's this?

Oh, phone records from a
private cellular line in the laptop.

I traced every
website Marsha visited.

Looks like there's only one.

How the hell do you stare at
a website for four hours a day?

Interactive website.

I took a quick peek myself.

Webcam, fantasy
fulfillment kind of stuff.

Pretty good place to escape.

Oh, and get this.

It's based right here in Boston.

Lucky us!

Gee, I was
expecting something...

Dirtier? Welcome to the
new millennium, Wood.

White collar
meets spiked collar.

Good afternoon. May I help you?

Hey, there. We're from...

Los Angeles.

We're in the industry out there.

My name's Nina LeVeaux
and this is my partner, Dale...

O'Bone.

Our assistant called you
about setting up a tour?

I'm sorry, I don't
see anything here.

May I ask what
this is regarding?

Damn! We were hoping
to speak to somebody

about setting up a West
Coast franchise office.

It looks like we brought our
checkbook for nothing, Dale.

Uh, yeah, Nina.

Well, I'm sure Mr. Little,
our Chief Operating Officer,

can free himself up
for a tour. One moment.

Excuse us. Mmm-hmm?

(WHISPERS) What are you doing?

What, do you think they're gonna talk
to us with you whipping out your badge?

Believe me, I'm not whipping
anything out around here.

LITTLE: We're very proud
of our little operation here.

Anything in particular you'd
be interested in seeing?

It'd be great if you
could give us an idea

as to how things work
around here, Mr. Little.

Of course. Behind each of these
doors is one of our characters.

Characters?

All our clients have
different tastes.

The character plays a role, catering
to each particular client's fantasy.

What you see on these screens
is exactly what the client sees.

The client types in a desire
and the character acts it out.

I see Dale's already taken an interest
in Mary Catherine, our bad school girl.

(CHUCKLES SELF-CONSCIOUSLY)

Actually, she doesn't seem
to be with a client right now,

so why don't I give you
a little demonstration?

She sees what I'm typing

on a monitor below her webcam.

"What happens when you forget
your homework, Mary Catherine?"

(SQUEALS)

As you can see, we can pretty
much cater to any desire here.

We have foot fetishes, squashing
fantasies, male-female cross-dressing.

Who's that?

That's The Punisher.

He's just about to take a break,
actually. Would you like to meet him?

Very much.

Excellent. Meantime,
I'll take Dale down

and we'll have a little
chat with Mary Catherine.

If that's okay with you, Dale?

Yes, I'd like that.

You're late.

Sorry.

I had to talk a
jumper off a rooftop.

Yeah? And how did that go?

Oh, he'll be
arriving here shortly.

Hope we have better
luck with you, eh, Doctor?

(STILES CHUCKLES)

So, now, tell me,

what made you decide to
become a Medical Examiner?

(SCOFFS) What? Excuse me?

Well, I've always
been fascinated

by why you guys do what you do.

I mean, of all the
medical sciences,

you choose to cut up corpses.

Death doesn't
bother me. It's natural.

So there was no defining moment?

I thought we were
talking about Brian Kirsh.

Okay,

let's talk about Brian Kirsh.

You ruled it homicide as a result of
abuse. Now, what happened next?

It was the night after I
filed the prelim report.

Dr. Macy asked if I
could join him in his office.

He wasn't alone.

Doctor, please have a seat. This is
Mr. and Mrs. Kirsh, Brian's parents.

I'm just now familiarizing
myself with the case,

and they were hoping you
might be able to help them out.

Of course.

Police stopped by our
house a few hours ago.

They were asking some
very, uh, unsettling questions.

We were hoping you
might be able to tell us why.

Mr. Kirsh, I found a series
of bruises on your son.

There was also a
trauma to his head.

Of course there was. He was always
getting hurt with his condition. We tried.

His condition?
Brian was autistic.

(INCREDULOUSLY)
You didn't know that?

They didn't tell you that?
How can they not tell you?

Doctor, our son had
a seizure disorder.

This morning, he was
in the back yard, playing.

I only left him alone

for a minute!

I came back, he was in
the midst of a grand mal.

By the time the
paramedics got there...

I ran a full tox
screen on Brian.

I didn't find any
anti-seizure medication.

The side effects
were too severe.

Obviously not as
severe as the grand mal.

Are you accusing us
of killing our son? Okay.

Who the hell do
you think you are?

Who the hell do
you think you are?

Mrs. Kirsh, please. I understand
how tragic this loss must be,

but let's try not to
jump to conclusions.

I'm not the one
jumping to conclusions!

This new information definitely
warrants a closer look at your son.

I'll conduct an examination
myself and we'll speak again.

Do you resent Dr. Macy
for second-guessing you?

Dr. Macy is my boss.

But that doesn't
answer the question.

It's not my place to
question Dr. Macy's judgment.

So you still believe the parents
were responsible for the boy's death.

I don't have an opinion one
way or another. It's not my job...

Now, that's getting a bit tired.

Just between us,

were they or weren't they?

The trauma to the head is...

Autistics can self-inflict
injuries to the head

in any number of ways.

The bruises on his chest
were in a hand-shaped pattern...

Could have been the
paramedics administering CPR.

I just had a feeling, all right?

I guess that
answers my question.

Hi.

You must be The Punisher.

Oh! Hey.

It's Herb, actually.

"The Punisher" is
just a stage name.

You must be the
lady from California.

Mr. Little said you had
a couple of questions.

Just have one.

This woman's handle
was "PunishMe."

I get the feeling you
two were acquainted.

Oh, jeez.

Marsha.

Who are you?

Someone who wants to find
out what happened to her.

(SIGHS)

She was one of my best clients.

Three, four-hour sessions.

I didn't mind it at first when she
started making weird requests,

but then a few weeks ago,
it just started getting weirder.

What did she want you to do?

Well, you know,
most of my clients,

they just want me to wave the
whip around, talk mean to them.

Honestly, I'm just in the
fantasy business here.

I don't actually do anything.

She wanted it for real.

Then why did you
agree to meet with her?

Oh, I didn't meet with her.

You recognized her
from the photo, Herb.

(WHISPERING) This place
doesn't pay that well, see,

so I get a little
extra on the side,

putting people of
certain tastes together.

I met her in a diner, gave
her a couple of handles.

I don't know their real names,

but they were guys who could
make her fantasies come true.

She'd been exchanging emails
with one of these guys for weeks.

It was perfect.

They were gonna meet.

Man.

I can't believe
she really meant it.

Meant what?

She wanted to die.

Hey, how was Mary Catherine?

Swell. We discussed the finer
points of spanking techniques,

so this trip wasn't a
complete waste of time.

"DirtyBirdy" and "Sickboy23"?

Screen names.

Our leather-clad friend put
Marsha in touch with these two.

I'm guessing one of them
got a little carried away.

Okay, assuming you're right, how
are we supposed to catch the right one?

Why, red-handed, of course.

Traditionally, when you
invite someone over to dinner,

you're supposed
to do the cooking.

Fine, then you come over here
and write the bait to these two sickos.

Putting yourself out there to lure
these guys from behind their computers.

I don't know how you
talked me into this.

Because you failed to
come up with a better idea.

Okay, what do you think of this?

"Sickboy23, got your
name from The Punisher.

"Let's not play games.

"Games are for the weak.

"And patience is for
those who lack conviction.

"I've been very bad.

"I've been so bad, I
don't deserve to live.

"We should meet."

I think you're too good at this.

Takes a thief, Wood.

"Naughty." What?

"I've been so naughty,
I don't deserve to live."

Got a better ring to it.

I think I'm starting to
rub off on you, farm boy.

Mmm!

(CLEARS THROAT)

You're in big trouble, mister.

Maggie.

You stood me up, Garret.

(STAMMERING) Oh, God. Look,
I'm so sorry. I must have lost track of...

It's not the eating alone
that I mind so much.

I'm used to that.

But when I make a date

to have sex with someone,

I expect them to be punctual.

Look, I'll make it
up to you, all right?

Tomorrow, I'll leave early.

Yeah, promises, promises.
What are you doing?

What do you think? Well...

You're drawing the blinds to...

Oh.

Do you realize that in
15 years of marriage,

we never once

had sex outside of the bedroom.

Come on, Maggie, there's still
people here. I'm the chief now.

Oh!

Is that supposed to arouse
me, that you're the chief?

Maggie, I can't.

(COYLY) Well, we
both know that's not true.

You're seducing me. Am I?

Yes. Is it working?

Maybe.

Hmm.

Well,

how about now?

Yeah.

Well, you can't win 'em all.

(SIGHS)

They'll answer sooner or later.

I'll leave the computer on. If I
hear anything, I'll let you know.

Thanks for dinner.

And for letting me talk you into
another harebrained scheme.

It wasn't that harebrained.

(CHIMES)

The laptop.

Sounds like someone
just took the bait.

(READING)

"Would you like to view?"

Here goes nothing.

I don't like the look of it.

Oh, come on, Dad. At
least it's on your own turf.

She's a civilian, you know.

Using her as bait to
catch some sick pervert...

All due respect, Mr. Cavanaugh,
this was not my idea.

Of course it wasn't your idea.

Hey, you mind letting me
ride shotgun on your op?

I'd appreciate the help.

What's your plan?

Okay, our two suspects are
scheduled to meet Jordan an hour apart.

How will you know what
they look like? We don't.

I told them I'd be carrying a
Marquis de Sade biography

and they're supposed
to bring a red rose.

As soon as we make
them as one of our marks,

I'm gonna have one of my guys run
the plates on the car they drive up in.

Guy looks dirty or anything comes
up funky, we are gonna move in.

I am not gonna put you in a
situation where you are in danger.

I can take care of myself,
cowboy. See you guys at five.

Was she always this way?

Always.

(MOANING)

If you keep talking,

I'm gonna have to
start that elevator again.

(MOANS)

Maggie, we have
to stop. I'm on duty.

I'll come by tonight, I promise.

(GROANS)

Fine.

But if you're a no-show,

there will be severe
consequences.

Infernal contraption.

Maybe it's stuck.

Then why is the
little light on, then?

(ELEVATOR BELL RINGS)

Trey, Nigel.

BOTH: Dr. Macy.

Garret! Just the
man I was looking for.

How goes it, Howard?

Hey, are you all right?

Fantastic. Why?

Well, you look a bit flushed.

It's a little warm
in here, I guess.

Hey,

you've been getting
action, haven't you?

Now, what would
make you say that?

Oh, I suppose
it's my keen ability

to look deep into
the hearts of men.

And the fact that
your fly's undone.

Is it that cute intake
girl you were doting on

the last time I harangued you?

What was her name? Phyllis?

Lily.

And I was not doting.

You mean you blew it?

And what was your
excuse this time? Work?

Fear of intimacy?

Was there something
you wanted, Howard?

Oh, you're no fun.

That's what they tell me.

Well, if you won't talk about
your dysfunctional romantic life,

perhaps we could have a
word regarding Dr. Vijay...

Bug.

Right!

Let's have a word regarding Bug.

It's 8:00. Where is she?

Making her entrance.

Hot damn!

(GASPS)

(STUTTERING) I mean, you have a
very lovely daughter, Mr. Cavanaugh.

Very smart.

(SOFTLY) Showtime, boys.

We have our first mark.

Five-six, wire-rimmed
glasses, blue shirt.

Let's run his plates.

You must be Evangeline.

And you must be, uh, DirtyBirdy.

How's about I
just call you Burt?

(CHORTLES)

This guy's a Poindexter.

Are you okay, Burt?

Sure.

(STUTTERING)
Just a little nervous.

Jeez, that's no good.

I mean, if we're
both nervous, then

no one's in control.

Oh. Well,

not so nervous that
I can't be in control.

I mean, if that's what you want.

Is that what you want?

That's what I want.

You know, usually I have
to spend a lot of time online

before I can get a woman
to agree to meet me.

But you seemed very
eager for a submissive...

You haven't done
this before, have you?

No.

Not in real life, I mean.

But I could.

I got an ID. Felix Lowe.

A couple busts for indecent
exposure, nothing major.

This guy's a guppy.
Throw him back in.

No offense, Burt, but I get the feeling
that you're a real big talker online,

but in real life,
you're a sweetheart.

I could spank you if you want.

(WOODY STIFLING LAUGHTER)

Good night, Burt.

So what happened?

You saw the incident report.

Yes, but you make
everything so officious.

I'd like to hear it from
the horse's mouth.

What happened after you
met with Brian Kirsh's parents?

Based on their information, I
took a look at the boy myself,

and I didn't find anything that
suggested abuse in light of the autism,

so I tossed the initial report and
listed cause of death as undetermined.

So you overruled Bug.

Yeah.

And how did he take it?

Not well.

You're putting murderers
back on the street.

Bug, this wasn't a homicide.

Well, how can you be so sure?

Look, it's not your fault the
police manipulated your findings

by not giving you the
relevant information.

(SCOFFS)

I was not manipulated.

My findings were
completely unbiased.

I wish I could say
the same for you.

Excuse me?

The parents have
impaired your judgment.

You know, we can't allow
ourselves to become emotional

about these things, Dr. Macy.

We can't let these things
affect our objectivity.

It seems to me I'm not the
one having objectivity issues.

Forget it. Hold it. Just...

Wait, wait, wait.
Just a second. Bug.

What's going on here?

Please, just get out
of my way, Dr. Macy.

This isn't like you.
Please, get out of my way.

No, I'm not gonna
get out of your way.

Now, is there something
about this you're not telling me?

Get out of my way!

STILES: He pushed
you. MACY: Yeah.

Now, why do you
think he did that?

I don't know. You're the shrink.

Maybe he has a
history of abuse himself.

Well, maybe.

These things are not
usually that black and white.

I mean, he clearly identifies with this
dead boy on some level he's not aware of.

But, uh,

I'll get there.

I always do, you know.

(BILLIARD BALLS CLATTERING)

Looks like bachelor
number two is a no-show.

I'm getting a soda.

Hey there, Evangeline.

Sorry, I forgot
to bring my rose.

Hi. Uh, you must be...

No need for names.
No need for questions.

How about you speak
when spoken to?

What the hell's going on?
How did we miss this guy?

Where are we going?

Someplace with a
little more privacy.

A positive ID on
the second mark.

Entered the bar
approximately 40 minutes ago.

Hey, wait.

I need to know exactly
what's gonna happen to me.

Want to know what's
gonna happen to you?

Who do you think you are
to ask me what I'm gonna do?

I'm sorry.

Oh, you're gonna be sorry.
You think this is a game?

Now, I know what you want.

You set up this cute little
blind date in this cute little bar

so you'd feel safe.

But you don't want
to feel safe, do you?

No,

I don't.

Good.

Then let's go.

Okay.

Take him down.
Take him down now!

(EXCLAIMS IN
SURPRISE) Get down! Down!

You all right? Yeah.

Come here.

Sickboy just finished a
stretch for sexual assault.

Got out four days ago.

You didn't waste any
time, did you, big guy?

Come on, get him out of here.

OFFICER: All right,
now, let's go. Come on.

Looks like we got
our guy, Jordan.

Yeah, there's only one problem.

Marsha was emailing
Sickboy for three weeks.

Now, unless that guy had a computer
in his cell, he wasn't writing to her.

Someone else was.

WOODY: Okay, Daryl,

explain to me why you're not
trying to help yourself out here.

Because I spoke to your warden,

and I know you didn't
have any access to the Net,

so you couldn't have written
those sweet letters to Marsha.

You know, the ones that
said you wanted to kill her.

You know what a safety word is?

What? No, I don't know what a...

I'm not talking to you.

Talking to her.

You know what a
safety word is, bitch?

No. Why don't you tell me,

bitch?

It's a time out.

You give it to her just
before you start to play.

It gets too intense,
she can always stop it.

She can stop it any time.

Charming. But what does
this have to do with Marsha?

Hers was "tap dance."

When I had my hands
around her throat,

I watched her lips

real close.

But she wanted to die.

She only had to say it once.

If she did, I would
have let her go.

Why should I believe you, Daryl?

Those were the rules.

Whose rules?

The man's rules.

What man?

The man with the plan.
The man who gave her to me.

The man who was watching.

Anything good on TV, Mr. Little?

It's a little late to discuss
franchising, isn't it,

Ms. LeVeaux, was it?

It's never too late
to discuss murder,

Sickboy23, was it?

Your online alias.

You wrote out the words and
Daryl acted out the fantasy.

(CHUCKLING) The Internet
is a very confusing place.

It's too much information. You obviously
have gotten lost somewhere along the way.

Maybe.

But a removed T1 Internet line

leaves an awful big
hole in a hotel room.

You were watching.

That's a very interesting
theory, Ms. LeVeaux.

Actually, it's Cavanaugh.

Medical Examiner's Office.

Ha. Well, one might ask why the
police aren't here instead of you.

Gone rogue, have we?

Nope. They're outside, actually.

I just wanted a little quality
time before they arrest you.

Arrest me for what, exactly?

Exchanging e-mails with that
woman who wanted to die?

Try putting her in a room
with a convicted criminal

and then watching him kill her.

They both acted of
their own free will.

I merely facilitated
the process.

Oh, I can hardly wait to
hear you explain that to a jury.

Well, I'll take my chances, because all
I'm guilty of is playing a little Cyrano.

It's still murder.

Satisfying people's darkest
and most personal desires

is what I do, Ms. Cavanaugh.

Now, how can that be murder?

I don't buy it.
Seriously. I feel better.

You want to know
what I think? No.

I think you only are
pretending to feel better.

Oh, really?

I think there's something
you want to get off your chest,

but you're not sure what it is.

It's an itch you can't scratch,

and it's driving you crazy.

Nothing is driving me crazy.

Do I look crazy?

Oh, definitely.

(SCOFFS)

Look, this itch, I
don't know what it is,

but I suppose
you're gonna tell me.

Now, that wouldn't be
very cathartic, would it?

Well, how am I
supposed to know...

You know, I was looking over the,
uh, photos from the autopsy report.

What? Brian Kirsh.

I was looking over
the photos you took,

and I recalled your first
impression when they brought him in.

Do you remember
what you told me?

No. Yes, you do.

I don't remember.

Sneakers.

He was wearing sneakers.

Fresh mud, shoelaces
with one untied.

You know what the weather was
like on the day Brian Kirsh died?

What does that have
to do... It was sunny.

Not a cloud in the sky.

So?

You remembered fresh
mud on his sneakers,

but there wasn't any mud.

(SOFTLY) No.

Who was wearing
the muddy sneakers?

I remembered it
wrong. I made a mistake.

No, you didn't. Who was it?

I don't know.

Who was wearing the
muddy sneakers, Bug?

My brother.

My little brother.

Tell me.

We were the only ones home.

Where were your parents?

They were working.
They were always working.

And it was raining outside?

No one can watch
a little kid constantly.

It's impossible. I mean,

you can try, but it's impossible
to watch him constantly.

It's always that five minutes
you think that they're watching TV

that they can slip
out the front door.

You don't even think
they'd want to go out,

with it raining so hard.

But then you hear the horn blast

and the screech of
tires on wet concrete,

(CLICKS TONGUE)

and you can feel it.

You know you made a mistake.

You were just a kid.

He was my responsibility.

You say that,

but you don't mean it.

Whose responsibility
was he, really?

(WHISPERS) Theirs.

Louder.

Theirs. My parents.

They blamed me.

Why did they do that to me?
I was just a little kid. Why...

Why did they look
at me like that?

Sounds like a lot of anger,

with no place to put it.

I bet it would have felt great

to tell your parents
how unfair it was

to saddle you with
that responsibility.

But you couldn't
punish your own parents,

because grief is an
unpunishable offense.

So I punished
someone else instead.

(SNORTS)

I'm not supposed to, um,

hug you now, am I?

No.

(CHUCKLES)

How about we just talk?

Why is it that I can spend
days working on a guy

and get nowhere,

and you can mosey on into a room

and in two minutes
get a confession?

I have a way with
the sick and twisted.

Woman has a nice
house in the burbs,

successful husband, good job,

yet she still wants some
stranger to kill her for kicks.

I don't get it.

Why?

There is no why. People
are sick. End of story.

Sweep it under the
rug and move on.

Wouldn't it be great if
you actually believed that?

Good night, Doc.

Night, Woody.

I didn't know you smoked cigars.

I haven't in years, but tonight
I was in the mood for one.

I hope I'm not interrupting.

No. No. Just...

Just thinking.

I remember the first
time I had one of these.

You get to a certain
point in your life,

you've already done
everything for the first time,

nothing's new anymore.

I've already heard
my first blues record,

tasted my first
piece of chocolate,

had my first true love.

I'm allergic to chocolate.

Violently. Yeah.

Dr. Macy, I wanted to...

Apology accepted.

This job,

it's hard sometimes.

Yes, it is.

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