Diagnosis Murder (1993–2001): Season 6, Episode 21 - Blood Ties - full transcript

I'm at the hotel now,
Mr. Yamaguchi,

and I can assure you

that all the arrangements
have been made.

Yes, we will see

that their every desire
is
satisfied

during their stay.

Arigato.

Excuse me.

Hi. Could I borrow
a phone, please?

Use mine.

Oh.



Thank you very much.

Oh, who do I call?

You need a phone,
but you don't know who to call.

I just drove all the way
from Ogden, Utah.

I have a very big audition
tomorrow.

I know it sounds silly, but...

I want to be a model.

Doesn't sound silly at all.

You have all the right, uh,
qualifications.

Not if I don't get there.

My car is stuck outside
with a flat tire.

I can't change it,
and I don't belong

to an auto club, so, I...

Who do I call?



No one.

I'll change it.

Really?
You don't mind?

Show me the way.

Thank you.

Where's the car?

I have a small confession
to make.

My car is fine.

It's you I wanted.

So, this is,
uh... business.

Mmm, you could say that.

Well...

Well, well, well,

I...

If we'd had to wait
another day or two

for a donated liver,

your father
wouldn't have made it,

but he's in surgery right now.

What are his chances?

Oh, most patients really do
very, very well,

and your dad, for his age,
is in great shape.

But, you know, Amy,
there's no guarantees.

I'm used to that.

Trauma one, coming through.

What do you got?

G.S.W. to the chest.

He's bleeding out.

B.P. is 60 palp.

Pulse is 150 and thready.

I started him
on Ringer's I.V.

Okay, I need a
C.B.C., chem seven.

Let's cross and match.

We need six units
of "O" negative

and a chest tube.

Yes, Doctor.

Okay, on my count.

One, two, three.

Sir, this is a restricted area.

You're going to have to leave.

Not until I know he's dead.

Okay, okay, uh...

you don't want to do this.

The hell I don't!

Get me security.

I've got the situation
under control.

Really.

I'm going to need your lab coat.

That sounded like gunshots.

Taylor.

Security to the E.R.

Security to the E.R.

If you don't put the gun away,

I'm not going to be able to

continue my work,
and he will die.

He's already dead!
We all are!

For God sakes, kill us all.

Shut up.

Look... look
what he's done!

He broke a vial of
zystic bacteria,
serio-group three!

It's in the air now, and we

are all breathing it!

What the hell is she
talking about?

It's going to start soon... the
skin erosion, the vomiting,

the bleeding from every orifice.

Please, I beg you,

shoot me!

She's lying.

In five minutes,

you'll know for yourself.

That's when the skin begins

to erupt in pustules.

You're probably
already beginning

to feel the itch.

Kill him!
Kill me!

Kill everyone!

Just save a bullet for yourself.

It's all under control.

We are all going to die!

Certainly doesn't look
under control to
me.

Stop it!
Stop it or I'll shoot!

Shoot. Shoot.

Shoot!

Coward.

You're insane.

You're welcome.

Dr. Sloan, I'd like you
to meet my new partner,

Detective Taylor Lucas.

Nice hospital you have here.

Chip?

Steve.

Here's the autopsy
report on Milton Wilder,

the pimp who was killed
in the alley last night.

No surprises there.

Good, 'cause I've already
reached my weekly limit.

Yeah, I heard.

Why was that lunatic

down here trying
to kill a patient?

Well, 'cause he blew it
the first time.

The guy on the table was the,
uh, shooter's business partner.

He embezzled two million dollars
from their company.

When the shooter went to,
uh, confront him about it,

he found him
in bed with his wife.

Ouch.

So, he emptied his gun into him,

but there was nothing left
for his wife.

So, he left
to get some more ammo.

When he came back,
he saw the paramedics

trying to save
his partner's life.

So, he followed them down
here to finish off the job.

Did he?

That's what I'm waiting
to find out.

So, am I investigating
a homicide

or an attempted murder?

Oh, attempted murder.
He's going to live.

That's my cue to leave.

I have a date with
my son and four
Teletubbies. Bye-bye.

Bye.

If you ask me,
the guy on the table

isn't the only one
lucky to be alive.

We all are, no thanks
to, uh, Detective Lucas.

Hey, she took down the shooter,
didn't she?

Yeah, after she told
him to kill us all.

But he didn't.

He cou have.

But he didn't.

Steve, I think you're
missing my point.

That woman is as scary as
the psycho with the gun.

Oh, I admit she's
kind of unorthodox,

but she gets the job done.

Besides, at least now
she's got a partner

keeping her in check.

Well, I tell you,

you'd have to be crazy
to be her partner.

Amy Devlin may be
a lot of things,

but crazy is not one of them.

She made detective
faster than any woman

in L.A.P.D. history.

I think she's aiming
for chief one day.

Well, she ought
to pick out a burial plot

because if she stays
with Detective Lucas,

she's not going
to be living much longer.

You shouldn't be so
hard on Taylor Lucas.

I mean, people used to
say
was unorthodox.

You?

Yeah, they used
to say I was edgy

and unpredictable and shocking.

Steve, they were talking
about your hair.

They were?

Yes, they were.

Remember, you had

that Rick Springfield thing
going for a while

and that one year,
it sort of glowed in the dark.

Do you always have
to accelerate to a stop?

Keeps me awake.

Yeah, I wish I had that problem.

Are you still not sleeping?

Mmm.

You're worrying too
much about your dad.

Well...

What you need is

a distraction.

Like what?

Like going undercover at Dudes.

The male strip club?

Yeah.

Is there something illegal
going on over there?

You won't know
unless you investigate.

Devlin, Lucas,
I need to talk to you.

I'll catch up.

Lieutenant?

You know a guy named
Milton Wilder, who ran

a high-end escort service?

He's dead...

Gunned down in an alley
outside a hotel last night.

Captain wants you to handle it.

He must've mistaken us
for homicide detectives,

or are we being reassigned?

No, you're being helpful.

Homicide is spread thin,

and vice is your specialty,
so you'll be assisting.

Report what you find to me.

We will.

Oh, and, Devlin, you're driving

the, uh, oldest sedan
in the fleet, aren't you?

Oh, we prefer to think of it

as a classic automobile
entrusted to our care.

Well, now you're driving
the newest one.

A homicide perk?

No, strictly regulation...

New one comes in,
the older one gets scrapped...

So, uh, take good care of it.

Thanks, Lieutenant, we will.

You can start
by never letting Taylor drive.

What's this doing in our spot?

Where's our car?

This is our car.

Fine.

That is just the attitude
that worries me.

What attitude?

You don't care whether
the car is old or new.

You're going to drive
it exactly the same way.

Because it's a car.

With only five miles
on the odometer

and not a scratch on it...

or doesn't that mean
anything to you?

Yeah, it means
it's time somebody broke it in.

Oh, no, we're not
breaking anything.

We're keeping this
in pristine condition.

It's a car.

It's a responsibility...

like the homicide case
we've just been given...

Our opportunity
to prove ourselves

and get out of vice.

Or it's a dead-end case
they gave us

because it will torpedo any
chance we have of promotion.

Well, we don't have
a choice, anyway.

Then, we'll get right on it

after we pick up my bail jumper.

What bail jumper?

Laurette Stipe, gun merchant...

doesn't shave her underarms.

Took me six months undercover
to bust her

back when I was
with the A.T.F.

You were only with the
A.T.F. for six months.

We had creative differences.

So, let the A.T.F.
handle it.

If they could handle it,
she wouldn't be out, would she?

It's not your case anymore.

It'll take an hour, tops.

An hour.

Tops.

You said it would take an hour.

I meant an hour
after we found her.

Where do you think you're going?

To get Laurette Stipe.

You're just going
to walk in that bar?

I may open the door first.

Oh, you're just going to

open the door and
walk in that bar?

That's how I usually go
from outside to inside.

So, after you open the
door and walk in the bar,

what do you think is
going to happen next?

Do you need all the steps,

or can I just summarize it
under the blanket statement,

"I'm going
to get Laurette Stipe"?

You don't think maybe
this woman might recognize

the undercover cop

who arrested her, and that maybe

she won't want to be covered
by your "blanket statement"?

What's your idea?

Laurette Stipe doesn't know me.

And?

I... I can't
let you go

in there alone.

Oh, right.

I'm only a ten-year veteran
of the force.

No way I can handle this.

That's not what I meant.

You think I'm too soft

to make a simple bust
in a biker bar.

No, it's just this
bar, it's not...

Okay, you think that because
I haven't been thrown

off half a dozen
law-enforcement agencies

for going too deep undercover,

I can't pick up a bail jumper?

You want to do this
your way, do it your way.

I will.

So, what does she look like?

I'm looking

for Laurette Stipe.

I hope you didn't buy
those weapons from her

'cause if you did and
you pull the trigger,

you might blow your face off.

I want a refund.

I don't know you.

Oh, now you don't know me.

How convenient.

My boyfriend is dead

because of the lousy
gun you sold me!

It jammed,

and before I could shoot
the security guard,

he gunned my sweet,
innocent Jimmy down!

I never sold you a gun.

I never seen you before.

My Jimmy is dead,
and I'm a fugitive

just because of you
and your lousy gun!

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Wait a minute, guys.

Wait, she's lying.

She's lying.

I never seen her before.

Hey, my merch is good!

Oh, is it, now?

Why don't we take my gun outside
and try it, then?

You just better hope it works.

Hey! Keep it down out there!

Hi, Laurette. Miss me?

Did you have to skid to a stop?

Those are brand-new tires.

Think I got him.

What are you doing?

Waiting to return fire,
if there is any.

Well, wait somewhere else.

Behind this Dumpster,

behind that wall.

I can get a good shot from here.

What if he fires back?

I'll duck.

Behind a brand-new car?

We're supposed to be
protecting it.

I think he's in the side alley.

Quiet. Shh.

Well, this is exciting.

Where are you going?

To find the shooter.

Laurette's dead.

I'm sorry I can't say
the same thing for the shooter.

Hey.

Hey.

How's your dad?

He set off the smoke detector

with his cigars,

and he threw his lunch
tray out the window.

He's getting better already.

Yeah. Even bribed
some orderly

into smuggling in
a corned beef sandwich.

Actually, I... did that.

You did?

I was worried about him.

Thank you.

Got that out of your system?

Yeah.

The M.E. wants to see us.

I always thought Laurette
would have had more guts.

You can discuss
your bravery under fire

at the memorial service.

I mean literally.

Don't most people keep
their internal organs here.

Excuse me.

Stipe was an organ donor.

And since the cause of death
wasn't in question, the organs

were harvested immediately.

Wouldn't have figured her
for a philanthropist.

Or that she was connected
with Milton Wilder.

Which is why we called
you down here.

The bullet I took out of Stipe

was sent out for a routine
ballistics check.

The computer found a match.

The bullet that killed
Laurette Stipe

came from the same gun
that killed Milton Wilder?

And you said going after my bail
jumper was a waste of time.

Why didn't you tell me?

Why didn't you ask?

Why didn't I ask what?

I have no idea.

What didn't I tell you?

When you said you wanted
to pick up a bail jumper,

why didn't you tell me

she was related
to the Wilder case?

She wasn't. I mean,
I didn't know she was.

Is this the off-duty cop?

Yeah, shot by a carjacker.

B.P. 90/60, and she's
hyperresonant on the right side.

Okay, let's type and cross.

I need some "O" negative.

Let's get a chest tube,

and let's contact a surgeon.

You need blood, you
got it right here.

Oh, thanks, but, uh...

but a dozen cops
have already volunteered.

That's why I always
keep a gun under my seat.

Carjacker gets in,

they'll have to scrub him
off the upholstery.

I'm serious.

It doesn't track.

Wilder ran hookers.

Stipe sold weapons.

Not exactly a lot of overlap.

Except the same guy
shot both of them

and he's got my bullet in him.

And he's going to
need a doctor who
doesn't ask questions,

so we hit the streets...

And get nowhere.

No one's going to cough up

the name of a dirty doctor
to anyone who asks.

They're too valuable.

Hey, remember that guy I dated?

Special effects guy
who did movie gore?

Yeah... the geek
who spoke Klingon.

And you criticize
the guys I date.

You don't date.

I don't have
to speak Klingon either.

Okay, fine. The point is

he can make one of us
look bullet-riddled.

That's not good enough.

I mean, even a shady doctor

will know a fake bullet wound
when he sees one.

Okay, so what's your plan?

Hold out your arm.

I want to get a clean shot.

You're going to shoot me?

Just a flesh wound;
barely a nick.

You are not going to shoot me!

We need to find a dirty doctor.

Do you have a better plan?

I don't need a better plan

to know that your plan
is terrible.

Fine. It was just an idea.

You shot yourself!

I grazed myself.

I can't believe
you just shot yourself!

I've done it before.

You have?

You haven't?

You are psychotic.

You do know that, don't you?

It's my best quality.

Oh... okay, now, just...
try not to get blood

on the upholstery.

What is it with you
and this car?

Ugh, I can't...

Hold your arm out the window.

You sure this
is the right place?

We hit the streets,
I bled all over them,

and we only got three names.

Yeah, and the first
was a veterinarian,

and the next one
is still in prison.

This better
be the right
dirty doctor

'cause if the
shooter didn't
come here,

we're out of luck.

Yeah?

My friend needs to see a doctor.

Try selling subscriptions
or candy.

It's more effective.

She's been shot.

There's a lot of that
going around.

500 bucks, cash. Up front...

For your basic
disinfect and sew.

More later if you want extras.

Like what?

Painkillers, antibiotics...

a tasty grape sucker.

Can we see the doctor now?

Yeah...

you can call me Dr. Welby.

You wait here.

Patients only.

You were only grazed.

You'll have an ugly scar
to go with your others.

Why'd you sniff me?

I was admiring your perfume.

L'air de Cordite.

The bullet left powder burns
on your sleeve and your arm.

Well, at least it left.

Sounds like other people
you've been seeing lately

haven't been so lucky.

You said it was going around.

Wouldn't be
in business otherwise.

You're going to need
a gentamicin shot.

Is that going to cost me?

Oh, not as much
as not having it.

How did you hear about me?

You treated a friend

of a friend last night.

Shot by cops down on 29th.

Is that so?

Mm-hmm.

And how's he feeling
this morning?

Glad to be alive.

This is an antibiotic.

The bullet may have missed you,

but there's still
a risk of infection.

Oh!

Tell me about
the guy you treated.

What, haven't you heard
of doctor-patient privilege?

I won't say a word.

You will when I give you
a shot of truth serum.

Sorry, we're all out
of Sodium Pentothal.

Oh, we have our own recipe.

Hmm...

cyclobenzaprine.

Sounds very chemical.

Must be good.

It's a muscle relaxant
and depressant.

I don't want you stressed.

Ah... some atropine.

Do you know what
will happen to me

if you mix those drugs together?

Nope.

Give me some of that.

It's a drain cleaner!

We don't want your arteries
getting clogged.

What do you want to know?

That's why they call this
a truth serum.

Every time we make it,
people start talking.

Tell us about the guy
you treated.

It was a woman.

That was my mistake.

She had a bullet in the chest.

It was too deep.

I couldn't take it out
without killing her.

She needed a surgeon.

Did she get one?

We don't do a lot of
follow-up care here!

Did you get her name?

She paid. She left.

That's all I know.

Well, thank you, Dr. Welby.

You're under arrest.

Want to tell me
how this happened?

No.

I am under legal obligation

to report all gunshot wounds,
no matter how minor,

to the police department.

Consider it reported.

Not good enough.

She shot herself.

You shot yourself?

She wanted to shoot me,
but I wouldn't let her.

You did?

You know, we have

an excellent
psychiatric department here.

I could recommend somebody.

It was the only way we could

get the line on a dirty doctor

who would treat a gunshot wound

without reporting it.

Hmm. Well, I hope
you got something useful

out of your self-mutilation.

Actually, we know
the shooter is a woman

and she's still carrying
Taylor's bullet.

She'll turn up soon enough

or her body will.

You know, your suicidal
approach to detective work

is going to get you both killed.

If you aren't willing
to take risks,

you shouldn't have the badge.

How is that wounded officer...

The one that got shot
by the carjacker?

Detective Cole...
Going to be fine.

She'll be sent home
in a few days.

Oh, good, and the search
for the carjacker?

Uh, still at large,

but not for long, I don't think,

because nearly every
officer on duty and off

is going down to
29th and Figueroa

looking for a lead.

Thank you, Dr. Sloan.

Listen, about that
psychiatric consult...

We can talk about it
next time I shoot myself.

Next time?

Officer Cole was shot

two blocks from where
we nabbed Stipe.

If they were that close,

we should have heard something.

We were kind of busy at the time

protecting the car, remember?

Not as busy
as we're about to be.

What are you doing?

Hoping to prove myself wrong.

These two bullets both
came from the same gun.

This is the one they
pulled from Officer Cole.

This one came from a rapist

shot last month
by a police officer.

You're saying a cop
shot Officer Cole.

I'm saying you did.

Time for a hospital visit.

Where's the cop
who was shot yesterday?

Oh, gone.

As in dead?

No. As in home.

She was shot in the chest
less than 24 hours ago.

How could you let her leave?

It wasn't my decision;
it was hers.

And besides, I think that she's

going to be back here
pretty soon and feeling lousy.

She left
without her prescription

for antibiotics and painkillers.

Who's in charge?

Uh, over there.

Amy Devlin, vice.

This is my partner,
Taylor Lucas.

We're looking for Officer Cole.

Uh, well, uh...

there she is.

I'm sorry.
What are you two

doing here?

We came to arrest Officer Cole

for killing Laurette Stipe.

Ah, well, so did we.

Washington and Andrews
run the anti-gang unit.

They had suspected that a cop
was helping Stipe

sell illegal weapons
to street gangs.

When Cole was carjacked
a few blocks

from where Stipe was shot,
they put it together.

They came here to
confront Cole,
things went wrong?

Well, Cole started shooting.

We fired back... and Cole lost.

So how'd you two
put it together?

Timing, geography

and a strong aversion
to coincidence.

Why do you suppose Cole checked

out of the hospital
in such a hurry?

Well, the anesthesia wore off.

I think she just wanted
the bullet out so she could run.

Didn't run very far, did she?

Yeah. Chalk one up
for the good guys.

I'll see ya.

You know what you said
about coincidences?

I'm feeling
a strong aversion right now.

I'm just feeling sick.

I think we should see a doctor.

If you expect me
to shoot myself again,

you can forget it.

That won't be necessary.

Dr. Sloan, we think
that Milton Wilder,
the vice lord,

and Laurette Stipe, gun dealer,

were assassinated
by corrupt cops,

and we think
that one of them
was Officer Cole.

How do you know that?

Because the bullet you
took out of her was mine.

You shot a cop?

No... I mean, yes.

Not on purpose.

Actually, it was.

Oh, so besides
shooting yourself,

you like to shoot
other policemen, too.

I didn't know
she was a cop at the time.

Who did you think she was?

The killer who shot Stipe
and was shooting at me.

Which she was.

Before we found out
she was a cop.

Which she is.

Why don't we sit down,
you tell me the whole story?

Very slowly?

Okay, we went to arrest Cole,

but she was already dead.

Gunned down in a shoot-out

with three other cops.

They claim she was
working with Stipe

selling guns to street gangs.

I was undercover with Stipe's
cronies for six months.

I would have known if she
was in business with a cop.

She wasn't.

Do you have any evidence at all
to back up your suspicions?

Not a thing.

If we can just figure out

what Wilder and Stipe
had in common,

we'll know why they were killed.

The problem is, we can't do that
using department resources

without tipping off
our suspects.

Okay. Why don't we just start
with what you already know?

Wilder ran hookers.

Stipe sold guns to wackos.

Nothing in common...
besides being human.

And they were barely that.

You know, maybe that's

exactly what they
do have in common.

You were right, Mark.

Both Wilder and Stipe
were organ donors.

If Stipe cared

about saving her fellow man,

she wouldn't have been
selling guns to sociopaths.

Yeah, that's what you
said when you saw

Stipe's cadaver,
which got me thinking.

That's why I had
Amanda check and see

if Wilder was a donor, too.

And he was.
They both had pink dots

on their driver's licenses.

Wilder wasn't a giving guy.

He didn't put that dot there.

Then somebody else did.

You think the cops are killing
these jerks for their guts?

Yeah. Corneas, hearts,
livers, kidneys.

The one thing the two
of them have in common

is that their organs
were harvested

within hours after they died.

That's a big stretch.

Can you think of any
other reason these two

would have donor dots
on their licenses?

These cops are bringing
social responsibility

to a new low.

They're just bad cops.

Oh, "bad" is
such a subjective word.

We like to think of ourselves
as providing a service.

Yeah. We didn't have
enough murders in this city.

Thanks so much.

We're just taking out the creeps

to provide healthy organs

for the, uh, worthy
citizens of the community.

Somehow, I'm not impressed.

You should be.

After all,

we saved your father's life.

Wilder may have been
a lot of things,

but he wasn't a drinker.

Your father got
a nice healthy liver

because of us.

If he knew, he would tear it out

with his bare hands.

Well, tell him, then.

See?

It's easy to object

to what we're doing
based on principle,

but when it gets down
to real people,

you know we're right.

Like when you killed
Officer Cole.

You putting cops on
your list of donors, too?

Jackie was compromised,
and she knew it.

We'd all make the same
sacrifice if we had to.

Is that how you're going
to justify killing us?

We didn't come here to kill you.

We want you to join us.

This is that scene

in every James Bond movie,
isn't it?

Yeah. Where the bad guy
says, "Join me.

We'll rule the
world together."

And if Bond says yes,
he'll probably

have a chance to get away,

come back with
the entire British army

and wipe out
the villain's secret lair.

Instead, he says, "Hell no,"
and gets thrown in the dungeon.

I never understood that.

Until now, right?

Yeah.

Hell no.

So now what?

Little Timmy going to get
my pancreas tomorrow?

Too bad.

We could have done
some nice work together.

It never works like that
for James Bond.

They already killed one cop.

Maybe they'd
rather go down
than kill two more.

Right. Because deep down,
they're really good people.

Did you just hear a click?

Yeah. What is that?

Some fancy new feature?

I don't think it's
standard equipment.

Look under the seat.

Uh...

it's a bomb.

That thing triggered off
when you sat down.

You get up, it goes off.

Okay, so I'll just sit here
the rest of my life.

Well, you could, but since
there's also a timer attached,

I'm not sure
how long that would be.

Great. What do I do?

You might use this moment
as an opportunity

to reflect on how lucky you are

to have a partner
who worked in the bomb squad.

Uh-oh.

"Uh-oh"? What do you mean,
"uh-oh"?

Nothing. Everything's fine.

It's just, uh...

What?

Which wire do I pull,
the red one or the green one?

Just kidding.

I can't believe they put
a bomb in our car.

We knew they committed
multiple murders.

Of course, they're
going to try to kill us.

Well, kill us, sure,

but blow us up?
Our organs are destroyed.

What? Is my spleen
not good enough for them?

Is the light on that thing
supposed to be flashing?

Only when the bomb is armed.

Excuse me?

The light.

It flashes to indicate
the bomb is armed.

But that can't be
because you disarmed it.

Well, that was
certainly my opinion,

but it seems I might
have been mistaken.

You said you worked
in the bomb squad.

I did.

I did, and it was
one of the best weeks

I've ever had in the department.

A week?

A long week.

We got to get rid of that.

Okay.

Not...!

There are people out there!

That trash bin.

You don't know anything
about bombs, do you?

I know they explode.

Why didn't you tell me you
didn't know what you were doing?

I didn't want to alarm you.

I am alarmed.

I am very, very alarmed!

Hmm.

What are you
doing? Drive!

Look.

Great.

Pretty good driving.

Pretty good.

They put a bomb in this car,

and I'm still bringing
it back spotless.

Well, while you two
have been busy,

we've been trying to
figure out exactly what

these corrupt
officers are up to.

Yeah, we started by examining

how the organ donor
registry works.

Each potential recipient
is listed

according to blood
and tissue type,

and then they are prioritized

in order of critical need.

When an organ donor

becomes available,

we give it to the
first person on the list

with the same blood
and tissue type as the donor.

Somehow, Lipton
tapped into that list.

Okay, but how are they
picking their victims?

I mean, how do they know

that whoever they kill is
going to be on the list?

We think they've been using
a new DNA database

the FBI's been compiling
on convicted felons.

So they're generating
a list of felons

whose blood and tissue type

match the most
seriously ill patient?

Mm-hmm. Only they've been
doing it on the local level,

making sure that the right organ

gets to the right patient
in plenty of time.

If you're right,
you can figure out

who their next victim will be.

We already have.

We, uh, dug through
the Southern California

donor registry, identified
the most critical patient,

and then got his blood
and tissue type,

and then we matched it

against the DNA database
on local felons.

We came up
with four possible victims.

We eliminated the people

who might not be acceptable
as donors,

and from there, we went on.

Crook number one had a history
of intravenous drug use,

crook number two is in jail,
and crook number three had HIV,

which leaves crook number four.

A Mr. Gil Thaxton,

small-time pusher
who sells tainted drugs

but is a little too smart
to sample his own merchandise.

You know, they're not going to

go after Thaxton now they know
that you're on to them.

They stop now, they
get away with everything.

Okay. Well, at least we know
what they're up to.

We'll find a way to use it.

Soon.

Amy...

would you wait a minute?

I'd like to talk to you.

We have to talk
about your father.

Now, remember, we said
there are no guarantees.

You're late.

We wanted to make
sure you were alone.

I am.

But are you the
only one we're
talking to?

It's just the four of us.

You know, you're
taking quite a risk.

It's worth it.

That offer you made us...

I've changed my mind.

So you don't blame us
for the car trouble you had?

You did what you thought
you had to do.

Doesn't matter now.

So you really
expect us to believe

that you changed your
mind... just like that.

Your father's body's
rejected the liver.

Sorry. We don't have
a returns policy.

He needs another liver.

That's not our problem.

Please.

We can't help you.

But we can show you
how to help yourself.

This is Thaxton's meth lab.

He likes
to cut the drugs he sells

with baking soda,
paint thinner...

basically anything
he has lying around the house.

He doesn't have
a lot of repeat
customers.

But he does have
one redeeming quality.

He's the same blood
and tissue type as my father.

There's just one tiny problem.

Thaxton is still alive.

So...

what are you going
to do about that?

Me?

Well, daddy needs a new liver.

There it is.

You want it, you take it.

Now what do we do?

We arrest you for murder.

We were following you.

We saw you come in.

We heard a gunshot.

We came in and found you
standing over his body.

He was unarmed,
shot in the back.

Yeah, yeah.

You were desperate to
save your father's life.

That's probably how your
killing spree started,

although we'll never
know for sure

because you were gunned
down in a shoot-out
with the police.

Everyone is going to know
I was murdered.

How?

They're listening to us
right now.

I'm not wired,
but this place is.

Your little plot is over;
it's time to give up.

We got them.

They'll fold now.

They have no other choice.

We knew who your next victim
was going to be.

The key was getting you
to strike.

Hi.

The real Gil Thaxton
is in protective custody.

I don't know who you are, but
you're going to wish you were

It's not that easy.

Now, this is ugly.

Well... looks like
it's going to be
a massacre

any way you look at it.

Not if you give yourselves up.

You're kidding, right?

You put us in jail,
it's the same thing

as giving us the death penalty.

Only a lot more painful.

It doesn't have to be that way.

Oh, yeah, because
cops do so well
in prison.

Shooting us isn't going
to help you.

No, no, maybe not...

but I'm sure there
are some people

on the organ list
who will be grateful.

So...

who's going to shoot first?

That's psychotic;
what kind of person
thinks like that?

I can think of a few.

We have to do something
to stop them.

Then call for backup.

We can't wait. Buckle up.

Buckle up for what?

We're going in.

In... in...?

Go through the wall?

You got a better idea?

I don't have to have
a better idea

to know that your idea
is terrible.

I'm getting really tired
of people saying that to me.

No, no, w-wait a minute.

Wait a minute. Let me out.

First corrupt cop who moves
never moves again.

You're all under arrest.

You all right?

That's an experience
I could've lived without.

I'm not sure I could have.

What were you thinking?

I was thinking of
saving your life.

And you couldn't have done it
without the car?

I don't know.

I didn't give it any thought.

Now, see, that is
exactly your problem.

What's my problem?

This whole "not thinking" thing.

How long do
you think they'll
survive together?

Longer than anyone
who gets near them.

I think, if I were
a criminal, I'd
be very afraid.

Well, I'm not a criminal,
and I am very afraid.

- You're welcome?
- You're welcome?

You're going to get us
hurt one of these days.

- I'm not going to...
- Have you been hurt yet?

I don't know why I haven't.