King & Maxwell (2013–…): Season 1, Episode 3 - Wild Card - full transcript

Stealing credit card numbers
was a bad idea Hank.

Jumping bail was worse.

Where'd you go?

I was on the phone.

While we're chasing a skip?

Come on. Look at
this guy.

He couldn't run down
an escalator.

Uh, Hank?
Was I talking to you?

Oh ho ho, yeah!

Really, Hank?
That's your thing?

Getting stepped on?



Look, I'm getting away.

No, you're not, Hank.

Oh, come on. Show the guy a
little compassion.

Don't.

How often do you think
Hank here gets stepped on

by a woman
as good-looking as you?

Once... Amsterdam.

Come on. He's going to jail
for six months.

You're not gonna step on him?

Give him a little nudge.
Come on.

Take off that boot. Let's see
those little piggies. Come on.

Gross!

She ever step on you?

Like you wouldn't believe.



King & Maxwell 01x03
Wild Card
Original Air Date June 24, 2013

I mean, I consider myself

a pretty sexually
adventurous person,

but feet?

Ugh!

Yeah.

What do you mean "adventurous"?

Nothing weird.

Outdoors.

In national landmarks
and monuments.

You know...
normal stuff.

You've had sex in national
landmarks and monuments?

Here in D.C.?

- How many?
- Six.

Oh! Rigby's here.

Six?

Look at us, meeting over a body
that's still breathing.

That's not something
you see every day.

His name's Hank Barnes.

Wanted for wire fraud.

Skimmed credit cards

while he was working
at a shoe store.

Want me to call it in?

I'll take it.

Excuse me.

I don't think we've met.
Steve Gibson.

Michelle Maxwell.

You worked with
the Secret Service, right?

- Yes, I did.
- Right.

We both did.
Sean King.

Hey.

He's been out a long time.

Nixon... not a fan.

Nixon?

Yeah, I used to work
up on the hill.

Do you want to grab
a coffee sometime?

Sure.

Let me just, uh,
cut Barnes loose,

and you can cuff him.

Hm.

I see you got a new partner.

What happened
to Special Agent Carter?

Promoted?

Suspended.

What? Why?

Last night, he got pulled over
for a busted taillight.

He took a swing
at one of the officers.

It's too bad. He had
a bright future ahead of him.

Thank you for the collar.

So, not the Lincoln Memorial.

So, the...
the Washington Monument.

Do I look like
a walking cliché?

Come on. You said six, right?
Six?

Remind me never to share
anything with you.

Hey, Edgar, here's our invoice.

We get 10% of the bond
on Hank Barnes.

Ka-ching.

Why don't people pay you?

What are you talking about?
Of course people pay us.

These people don't.
Why don't people pay you?

Betty Camden never paid us?

We found her twin sister!

We're private investigators,
Edgar.

That means people hire us
to find the truth.

Unfortunately, the truth

isn't always
what people want to hear.

So... sometimes
they blame us.

It's part of the job.

See, to me, Edgar,
that's just a bunch of words.

Sean's a lawyer...
A man of words.

I, on the other hand,
am a woman of action.

Take action, Edgar.

Make these deadbeats pay.

Just like you did
at the I.R.S.

What do you suppose happened
with Special Agent Carter?

No idea.

You know,
if he got popped last night,

he's probably getting released
in a couple of hours.

No. No, no, no, no.
You just heard Edgar.

We need paying clients.

Michelle, no one deserves to lose
their career over one mistake.

- We did.
- Yes, we did.

It's taken me eight years
to make my peace with that.

You've only been out
for 18 months.

All I'm saying is,
we talk to Carter.

That's all.

Uh-huh.

And then you're gonna do
what you always do

when I don't want
to take the case.

Which is what?
Put me on the spot.

Hey, man of words, right?
Woman of action.

I will do all the talking.

What are you two doing here?

Michelle?

We came to see you.

We want to help.

Thanks, but I'm not looking
for a P.I.

Agent Carter...

You know
FBI internal investigations

can drag on for months.

You need to get your story out
right now.

You want to know my story?
Here it is.

Two white D.C. cops
pulled me over

for a busted taillight.

I badged them.
They didn't care.

Told me to step out of the car.

Then one of them
put his hands on me,

and I just snapped.

Bottom line...
I should've known better.

Hey, you want to know
what it's like

to be put
on administrative leave?

Ask me.

Or, better yet, ask her.

It sounds like a paid vacation.

It's not. It's hell.

You may not need a P.I., but you
sure as hell need a lawyer.

To say what?
That I was provoked?

You think that matters?

I won't know
until you retain me.

But I know I can help.

All right.

You want to be my lawyer,
go ahead.

It's not gonna make
a damn bit of difference.

Is it just me,
or is he hiding something?

Talk to me.

I'm at the site
of Carter's traffic stop.

No witnesses.

Where are you?

I'll give you a hint.
It smells like Brylcreem.

Tell Agent Steve
I owe him a call.

Bye.

Make it fast, King.

I'm tracking an oxycontin ring,
and I'm on a roll.

I want you to help Carter
get his job back.

What's it to you?
I'm his lawyer.

Well, that makes this easy.
Go talk to legal.

I thought you two got along.

We did.

Of all my partners,

Carter lasted the longest...
Nine months.

We had a cake.

The guy's on the bricks.

His case is being handled
by some desk jockey

who couldn't hack it
as a field agent.

You know what that means.

Carter punched out a cop.

He's lucky he's not
breathing through a tube.

And you're his partner.

You're supposed to
have his back.

Partners get assigned.

Carter wasn't my choice...
not with his history.

What history?

You have anything else,
take it up with legal.

We're done.

Betty Camden?

Yes?

I work for King and Maxwell.
You owe them $1,786.55.

Could you wait one moment,
please?

All right!

Hey.
Sub in for me.

I don't know.

Administrative leave's
not bad so far.

Tell me about your brother.

What does my brother
have to do with my case?

I think you know
the answer to that.

I told you
I don't make excuses.

Neither do I. I'm a lawyer.
I make arguments.

The FBI made theirs.
Let me make yours.

It was his first car...

A 12-year-old
candy-apple-red Camaro.

Now, I told him what was
gonna happen. I warned him.

"You see the cop lights,
you pull over.

"Both hands
on the steering wheel.

"Look straight ahead.
"'Yes, sir. No, sir.'

Don't give them anything."

But the first time it happens,

he looks in his mirror and sees
they have their weapons out.

And he panicked.

He reached for his wallet
in the front seat,

and one of the cops
yelled "gun!"

What else do you want to know?

Now let me ask you
about yourself...

Honest assessment.

Do you have a temper?

Me?

I was picked
for hostage negotiator school

at Quantico.

So, what happened last night?

Getting pulled over, pushed
around by a pair of cops...

That made you think
about your brother,

and you just snapped.

Now, that's not an excuse.
That's a legal argument.

How's your brother doing
these days?

Why don't you ask him?

Officer Van Ness,
can I talk to you for a second?

Are you a Fed?

No, I'm a P.I.

Trying to get Special Agent
Carter his job back.

Everything I have to say
is in my report.

Fine.

Then I'll just get
your dashboard cam,

and we'll see
what a jury thinks about it.

Well, good luck with that.

We had a glitch last night
while we were out.

My partner is a lawyer.

And when he gets you
on the witness stand,

you're gonna find out
what it's really like

to want to take a swing
at someone.

What you got?

A solid legal argument
to get Carter his job back.

Better than "He was set up
by two dirty cops"?

Why is everything
a competition with you?

What's your proof?

One of the cops
smashed his taillight.

I saw orange plastic shards
he tracked into his squad car.

You saw them?

You can tell the difference

between those
and... say, cheetos?

Hey, I got a picture.

I do think of these...

Oh, Edgar.

Edgar,
where are you going?

Edgar.

Talk to me.
I'm talking to you.

No...
Tell me what happened.

She asked me to get the clients
who owed you money to pay.

Sorry.
I meant send them a bill.

"Get those deadbeats to pay,
just like you did at the I.R.S."

That's what you said.
That's what I did.

Hey, Edgar,
I'm sure you're hungry.

Go get yourself a hot dog.

We'll catch up with you.

Just one?

Here.
Go to town.

No...
No, I... uh, bu...

Get two hot dogs.

Why are you so sure
these cops targeted Carter?

I'm an ex-cop.
I come from a family of cops.

Trust me...
These two are on the take.

They tailed Carter
to a quiet street

and disabled their dashcam.

The question is why.

Well, when Carter was arrested,

he was automatically suspended
from the FBI, right?

Maybe it had to do
with one of his cases.

Which is why we need Rigby
on our side.

Okay, you do that. I'll find out
who paid off these cops.

How?

Divide and conquer.

In every partnership, there's
an Alpha dog and a Beta dog.

.Just like us.

The Capitol steps?

Just tell me...

Did... did any of the six places
have a-a gift shop?

Bye.

Agent Rigby.

If this is about Carter,

I've told you everything
I have to say.

What if I told you he was set up
by a pair of dirty cops?

I'd say
that's an interesting theory

that you should share
with the bureau's lawyers.

You always let your partner do your
talking for you, Officer Palermo?

Got nothing to say to you.

Oh, my God.

You don't know, do you?

What are you talking about?

You think that plumbing van

parked across the street
from your apartment

is there to fix a leak,
don't you?

You framed an FBI agent.

Do you have any idea
how many branches

of federal law enforcement
have eyes on you?

You're crazy.

You know,
I'm sick of your attitude.

What do you want
from me, King?

All I want is a name.

Who paid you to set up Carter?

You think
you're such a tough guy,

going through partners.

I know all about you, Rigby.
It's all right there.

Ah, yes.

The Secret Service

and their ability
to read people.

Go ahead.
Take your best shot.

You speak very deliberately.

That tells me you overcame
a stutter when you were a kid.

That must have been fun
in the schoolyard.

You scratch your ring finger
all the time.

That tells me not long ago,
you had a wedding band there.

You spent 20 years
as a special agent.

That's a long time to go
without getting promoted.

That tells me you have something in
your file that's holding you back.

So, that's bullied as a kid,
divorced, career tapped out.

You stop me
when I get something wrong.

I think someone set up Carter
because of one of your cases.

And I need you to help me
figure out which one.

That's it.

Joe, I told you
I didn't want any part of this.

She's a stupid P.I.
Relax.

Why?
Because you say so?

What if somebody
from the cartel talks?

Look, how could they possibly
trace it back to us?

I got a phone call

and an envelope
full of cash... period.

So, what was it?

What was what?

The thing in your file
that killed your career.

Was it as bad as letting
a presidential candidate

you were protecting
get assassinated?

It was a kidnapping
in West Virginia.

The victim was the daughter
of a local mill owner.

She was only 17.

I took responsibility.

I expect my partners
to do the same.

Carter is
taking responsibility.

He was also set up.

Now, who do you think
would want him out of the way?

Well, let's see...
We have terrorists,

bank robbers, Ponzi schemers.

Take your pick.

Look, I'm not trying
to stonewall you.

It's just not enough to go on.

Thanks for the coffee.

The two cops
who pulled over Carter

are on the payroll
of a D.C. drug cartel.

And your proof is...?

I can't tell you.

You work narcotics cases.

Rigby.

Rigby, his career
is on the line here.

A guy got busted
in a drug sting last week.

He said he had evidence
against K-17,

a Mexican cartel
operating in D.C.

He wanted to make a deal.

Carter was developing him
as a confidential informant.

He was working this one solo.

I don't know anything
about K-17.

How do they feel
about snitches?

Got some more intel
on our C.I., Doyle Ross.

32 years old,

lists his occupation
as "professional poker player."

If you get mixed up with K-17,
you must like risk.

Apparently, he's not a typical cartel guy.
More of a bookish type.

Hey. Hey.

Sorry. Old habits.

Mr. Ross, FBI.
Open the door.

I think we found Doyle Ross.

He liked risk, all right.

What could you
possibly have been thinking

not having gloves
at a crime scene?

Thanks for calling.

You deserve to be here.

Doyle Ross was my C.I.

That should be me getting
my ass chewed out by Rigby.

What did Ross tell you?

I only met him once... in jail,
right after he got popped.

He bragged about his knowledge
of the K-17 cartel

and said he had
a "get out of jail free" card.

Any priors?

None.

Bank records showed
he received 2 grand a month

from a shell company
for the last seven years.

That sounds like
a cartel front.

If I'd gotten more out of him,
I could've kept him safe.

Informants never give up
everything right away.

They always
hold something back.

And Ross was a poker player.

There's no way he was going all-in
until he had his best hand.

I better go.

Carter.

We're gonna get you
your badge back.

Let me ask you something now...

You know,
an honest self-assessment.

Why do you care so much?

Where were we?

Seriously, you should try it.

What, sharks?

I don't think so.

Steve does triathlons.

He must have a lot of stamina.

Do you want to know
what our dead guy was up to,

or do you just want
to stare at Gibson?

I'm not staring at him.

I'm staring at her.

You saw that look, right?
That's not morbid curiosity.

No, that's
"I'm passing a crime scene,

and my photos
are on the fridge."

Please...
I don't know anything.

Please! It's okay. It's okay.
We're not cops.

We're private investigators. That
means we're not gonna arrest you.

But you could be in trouble,
and I think we can help.

I'm Michelle.
This is Sean.

I'm Patty...
Patty Russo.

Doyle's my boyfriend.

I-I saw the coroner.

He's dead, isn't he?

Doyle and I met
in an abandoned warehouse.

I was soloing, and we went
for the same shotgun.

I-it was online...
in "Flesh Eaters 2."

I hope that's not
a dating site.

It might as well be.

When you're
the last two survivors

of a Zombie Apocalypse,
you really get to know someone.

Did you know he dealt cocaine?

We're not the police, Patty.

He wasn't like a drug dealer
at all.

He was this total geek
who had his friends over

to play board games
every Wednesday night.

But then...

He followed some
of his D & D buddies into poker.

And he started to make
the real money.

What do you know
about his drug contacts?

He has this friend...
Gustavo.

Works at
Charlie Forte's Steak House.

Doyle would pick up coke
from him at the docks.

Did he ever take you with him?

What are you doing?

I'm making piles...

Papers, food wrappers,
and actual food.

Did...

Did you shuck corn in here?

I burn 3,000 calories a day.
Deal with it.

Incoming.

Hey, didn't Patty say
Gustavo rode a bike?

Yep.

And I just texted her a photo.

Whoever that is,
he's definitely taking delivery.

So, National Aquarium.

Okay, I'll give you

all six national landmarks
and monuments

where I've had sex,

but I'm gonna give them to you
one at a time

and without any warning,
so you better pay attention

to everything I say
from now on.

Yep. Patty says
that's Gustavo.

It looks like he's leaving.

We got to stall him.

My backup's in the glove box.

I don't need a gun.

Looking for this.

You're going to stop them
with my electric bill?

And my one semester
of maritime law.

Hey!
Hey! Wait up, guy!

Ho-ho-hold on!

Who's in charge here?

Who are you?

Terry Malloy...
Warehouse Supervisor.

Can I see your paperwork,
please?

Something wrong?

Tell you in a minute.

Who's the designated receiver
of goods?

This is basic stuff...

Article 7, subsection 202
of the Uniform Commercial Code.

We never had a problem
with this before.

Oh, sure. That's 'cause you were
working with Fred Dobbs.

I don't know who that is.

Well, of course you don't.

Why would you?

He sat in that office
over there

watching the Nats games
on a tiny TV

until they canned his ass.

All right.

These are my boxes,
and I'm gonna leave with them.

Not until you produce
the proper paperwork.

Put the gun down now!

So, how'd you do
in maritime law?

B.

Maybe B-Minus.

Who are you?

You want to field that one?

We're private investigators.

We're here because of
your friend Doyle Ross.

He's dead.

I can see you're worried.
That's good.

That tells me
you didn't kill him.

Now, why don't you have
your guys put down their guns,

and I'll tell you
everything we know.

The problem is, how do I know
you didn't kill him?

FBI! Freeze!

Put down your weapons! Now!

Put that gun down!

Let me see those hands.

Slow. Steady.

Traffic was a bitch.

I'm gonna need to see
what's in those boxes.

You got a warrant?

We could go that route,
or I could get probable cause.

Probable cause!

Come on, girl.

She's a dog.

Come on, girl.
What do you see?

What is that?
What do you got?

Open it.

Grass-fed beef...
from Argentina.

For my restaurant.

Well, go ahead...
Search the truck.

You know how this works.

Sometimes the product
isn't on the truck.

When it is, call 911.

Let's go.

That was your only shot
with Rigby.

He's never gonna listen now.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Talk to me about Ross'
"Get Out of Jail Free" card.

What did you think
he meant by that?

He mentioned it
the night he was arrested,

right before
he got his phone call,

so I assumed he was talking
about some high-priced lawyer.

But...?

I don't think
he called a lawyer.

What makes you say that?

A PD got him released on bail.

Who do you think
he did call from jail?

No idea.

There's no way to connect a call
from a jail pay phone to Ross.

No.

But if they were
that important to Ross,

chances are he called them again
after he was released.

Damn. If I still had my badge,
I could pull his cell records.

If only there was
some other way to get them.

Hm.

Edgar, I need you to trace
a call from a cell number

about two weeks ago.

Can you do that, please?

Edgar?

Hey.

I know starting a new job
is hard.

A year and a half ago,
I was with the Secret Service.

My job was
pretty straightforward.

I protected people.

I was good at it,
and it made me happy.

Now my job is different.

It's a lot more complicated...

And I'm not always sure
I'm good at it.

But change is good.

Why is change good?

You know, Edgar, I'm not really
sure how to answer that.

The truth is...
"Change is good"

is something my dad
used to always say to me

to get me to do stuff
I didn't really want to do.

You miss your old job
at the I.R.S., don't you?

I knew what to do there.

What was that?

People hide things.
I find them.

You mean money?

I'd find money.

You know what?
Forget tracing that call.

I've got something else
for you to do...

Like you used to do
at the I.R.S.

Doyle Ross received payments
for seven years

from a shell company.

If you can find out
who owns that company,

we might be able to help Carter
get his job back.

Can you do that?

Hot damn.

Hi. I need to check
my phone bill.

My name is Doyle Ross.

It's Sean.

Sometimes, to get to the truth,

a private investigator
has to lie.

Just a little.

Yes, well, I would
go online, Evelyn.

The only problem is, I'm blind.

And I don't have
a screen reader.

Well, here's the situation.

Somebody stole my phone,
and they're running up my bill.

Yes, a braille phone.

Why, yes,
I agree with you, Evelyn.

There is wickedness
in this world.

Is there any way
you could help me?

Well, God bless you, Evelyn.

And may He keep you
in the palm of his hand.

Immediately after
his release from jail,

Ross made
five calls in a row to...

This man.

United States Representative
Oliver Dawson?

Completely undistinguished
legislative career,

with one exception.

I remember.

Seven years ago,

he was questioned...
but not charged...

In the murder of Eliza Perkins,
an intern in his office.

Very good. Found strangled
in a D.C. park.

The ligature marks on her neck
matched her badge lanyard,

which was never found.

So, why would Ross call him?

Dawson had a rep as a gambler.

Ross could've been
his coke dealer.

That makes sense.

After he's popped,

he calls the most powerful guy
on his client list.

Have to go to the hill
to find out.

Yeah, I know. We'll be
talking about that in committee.

Well, I'm afraid you're gonna
have to take that up

with appropriations.

Yeah. Okay.

All right. Bye.

Congressman Dawson.

I'm sorry.
Do you have a minute?

Well, for you, my dear,
I have two.

Michelle Maxwell.

I'm a private investigator

looking into the death
of Doyle Ross.

Doyle Ross?
Uh, never heard of him.

Was he one of my constituents?

No. But he called your office
five times last week.

Do you have any idea why?

Hundreds of people call
my office every week, Mr...?

King. Sean King.

Ross made those calls

right after he was arrested
in a drug bust, sir.

He seemed pretty desperate
to reach you.

A criminal calls my office...

not me my office...

where at least 20 people work
every day.

That's what's considered
dirt now?

This has been going on
for seven years...

The questions, the accusations.

Well, thanks to you two,

it's now reached
a new level of absurdity.

Excuse me.

Let's go.

That was kind of weird.

Yeah! "This has been going on
for seven years."

I didn't bring up
Eliza Perkins' murder. Did you?

"Seven years."

Seven years.

What if the seven years
of payments to Doyle Ross

didn't come from the cartel?

What if they came
from Congressman Dawson?

I got to call Edgar.

Wait. Why would he pay money
every month to Ross?

Because Ross had
a "Get Out of Jail Free" card.

And I
think I know what it is.

Edgar. Sean.

I got something for you.

See? Alpha dog.

Hank would've paid good money
for that.

How do you
keep getting in here?

It's Special Agent Kelso's
birthday.

We brought cake.

Out.

We were right about one thing.

Someone paid off the cops

to peel Carter away
from his confidential informant.

Only, it wasn't
the K-17 cartel.

It was
Congressman Oliver Dawson.

I see. And I suppose I just have
to trust you on that, right?

Wrong. Take a look
under your cake.

What's this?

Proof that Doyle Ross was
on congressman Dawson's payroll.

Seven years of regular payments

flowing through
three different shell companies.

The source...
Dawson's re-election fund.

Mm.

Where'd you get this?

I mean the file, not the cake.

Actually, it was our genius
bookkeeper, Edgar. Remember him?

Turns out, he's one hell
of a forensic accountant.

You still haven't told me
what the payments were for.

Ahh.

The answer to that question
is inside Doyle Ross' house.

I don't want to step
on anyone's toes.

King, would you please show me
why you dragged us down here?

Poker made Ross money.

Dealing coke
made him feel cool.

But in his heart, Doyle Ross...

was a geek.

He still hosted game nights here
every Wednesday.

And here...

His "Get Out of Jail
Free" card.

Eliza Perkins...

Was strangled
with this lanyard.

I bet you'll find
two sets of DNA on there,

hers and her murderer's...
Congressman Oliver Dawson.

All right. I'll take it down
to the lab right away.

No, you won't.

- Carter, lower your weapon!
- I called Carter.

I realized
only someone with access

to Carter's personnel file

would know
exactly how to set him up.

That meant someone in the FBI
had to be in on it.

Gibson here was bragging

all about his connections
up on the Hill.

Well, turns out,
that included a stint

as chief of staff to
one Congressman Oliver Dawson.

Where his job was
to keep Doyle Ross quiet...

First with payoffs and then with a bullet.
Isn't that right?

Come on, Agent Rigby.
This is crazy.

Really?

Last time you were here,

you were chewed out
for not wearing these.

Well, he did that on purpose.

You see, Agent Gibson here,
he wanted to make sure

he got his prints
all over the crime scene

just in case you found evidence

that Murderer Gibson left behind
when he killed Doyle Ross.

Aah!

All right. Let's go.

Vacation's over.
I'll see you next week.

What'd you do to him?

I've never seen him so happy.

He's mellowing.

Well, thanks for getting me
my badge back.

Hope it helped.

Dawson was questioned

but cleared of Perkins' murder
seven years ago.

But the FBI
found physical evidence

linking him to the crime,

prompting
today's shocking arrest.

This is Lisa
for Channel 8 News.

Doyle wouldn't have
anything to do with a murder.

I agree.

But one way or another,

he got his hands
on the murder weapon,

and he found a way
to monetize it.

Via blackmail.

Doyle wasn't greedy.

He was happy to collect
a couple grand a month

for his silence.

Until he got arrested.

Yeah, but then the blackmail
wasn't about money anymore.

He wanted the congressman
to get his drug charges dropped.

And, unfortunately,

Congressman Dawson
doesn't have that kind of juice.

So... he had
your boyfriend killed.

Thank you...
for all your help.

And the pie.

Bye.

All right, I'm out of here.

What? It's early.

And we have an 8:00 A.M.
with an insurance company.

Their checks don't bounce.

I need you sharp.

The Smithsonian.

That one's a freebie.

The next five,
you'll have to pay attention.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

That's you, Sean.

Yeah. That's me.

The night Presidential Candidate
Clyde Ritter was assassinated.

The man
I was supposed to protect.

Why did you let him die?

In tort law...

which I got an "A" in,
by the way...

To figure out who's at fault...

You work backwards.

The explosion
was caused by the fire

that was caused by the man

that tossed...
A cigarette.

The roots of tragedy lie...
in the smallest acts.

Clyde Ritter died because of
a pair of sunglasses.

My sunglasses.

I didn't realize
I had lost them...

until...

Thank you very much.

I was onstage with Ritter.

You wear your sunglasses
inside?

You have to be ready...

For the flashbulbs
and the news lights and...

What happened next.

Someone opened up the blinds.
Sunlight hit me in the eye.

It was literally
the blink of an eye.

I spotted the gunman...
killed him.

It was too late.

Ritter was dead
before he hit the floor.

It's your fault he's dead

because you lost
your sunglasses?

That's right.

You said to find out
who's at fault, work backwards.

Blame the sun, Sean.

I wish I could, Edgar.

That was good work today.

Go home.
Get some sleep.

Hot damn.

I hope you're getting everything
you need from this, Jason.

I am, thanks.

It's so great of you guys,

letting me ride around
like this.

It's... it's really gonna help
add realism to our scripts.

Can't write what you know if
you don't know what you write.

Ah, wise words, detective Mike.

Ah, lieutenant...
Lieutenant Mike.

So, Andrews...

Uh, call me Jason.

So, uh, Andrews, this TV show

that you and lieutenant Mike
write for...

I'm not the writer.
I'm the technical advisor.

Right... uh, lieutenant Mike
is just making sure

that we follow
rules and regulations

and we use police jargon and...

Okay, so what's
this show about?

Uh, it's called
"badge of justice."

And it's about
a small team of detectives

fighting crime and corruption
inside the L.A.P.D.

What corruption?

Oh, you know, the usual...

Beating up suspects,
planting evidence.

Taking bribes,
racial profiling.