Law & Order (1990–2010): Season 2, Episode 10 - Heaven - full transcript

Narrator:
In the criminal justice system,
the people are represented

by two separate yet
equally important groups...

the police
who investigate crime,

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

(muffled yelling
and banging)

(screaming)

Hello? Hello?

(speaking Spanish)

(sirens blaring)

Get on the other side
of the street.



Move it!

You got the 21/2" line
over here?

Dispatch, 1047
on blocks 3-4-7.

1047.

Fireman:
Up there! Go, go, go!

(over radio)
5-0E to battalion, 1045.
I got two victims.

Battalion to dispatch,
1044 on blocks 3-4-7.

Ready in here!

Hey, Mike
you gonna put the fire out
all by yourself?

- Every kid wants
to be a fireman.
- Or a cop.

Not me.
No?

When I saw my old man,

which was like
every Sunday mornings at Mass,

- I swore I'd do
something different.
- What happened?



I grew up, I gue...

God help us.

Oh my God.

(theme music plays)

I've never seen
this many.

You?

Not in civilian life.

God knows how many
are still up in there.

What was this place?

A social club.

Social?

Medic:
Got another one coming out.

- Sorry, fellas,
can't let you in just yet.
- We got tickets.

Hey, this isn't
a dick contest, buddy.

Are you saying
it's arson?

Trust me, somebody laid down
a propellant between 1:00, 1:15.

The whole thing took no more
than two, three minutes. It's arson.

Great, then we can forego
the usual waiting period.

No, we gotta chop out the walls
and make sure there are
no hot spots.

- No rekindles.
- And no evidence!

Look, we got
the burn pattern,

we recovered a piece
of the device.

You go running off
half-cocked,

fall through the ceiling,
what good does that do any of us?

- Call me impulsive.
- Monahan. Arson.

Cragen:
And the death count?

We got, what,
51, Mike?

52. Club was on
the second floor.

The guy torched it from the bottom or the
middle of the stairs.

It was like, whoosh,
right up the chimney.

Anybody up above
would have been blinded
by the flames.

This guy must've
picked just the right moment
when nobody was outside.

Yeah, or nobody
remembers anything.

Oh, yeah?
Why's that?

It's one of those social clubs
for Central Americans.

Honduras, El Salvador.

They don't have enough heartache
in their own country?

Yeah. They're here illegally.

They see an authority figure,
they shut their mouths fast.

Cragen:
Well, this club...

Logan:
El Cielo. Heaven.

Heaven.

Okay, assuming that
this is arson,

do we have any idea
who the owner is?

Well, a place like this
changes owners

the way you change
your socks.

Hall of Records opens
in one hour.

It's Sunday, Mike.

- Maybe you ought to just...
- I don't care.

I can't sleep.
Let's get on it.

We'll go to the hospital,
check for survivors.

Maybe somebody will get over their
problem with authority figures.

Is this the complete list?

So far.
We've got the first 20.

The rest are at Mt. Sinai
and St. John's.

Pinero, Riojos,
Santiago...

Have you sorted out
any of these people?

They're the lucky ones.

Yeah, I know,
but you talked to them.

I mean,
did they all work there?

- Were any of them customers?
- I think the manager...

yeah, Acosta, Gilberto.
Being prepped for surgery.

Better hurry.

Cerreta:
Mr. Acosta.

You know the man
you had to throw out of the club,

the troublemaker...
what is his name?

(speaking Spanish)

Guillermo something.

His girlfriend's
the barmaid.

Celia Montalbano.

So this was
a lover's quarrel?

He says the guy's
a drunk.

Bouncer throws him out,
he threatens to come back
and wipe everybody out.

Mr. Acosta, what is
your bouncer's name?

Nurse:
Guys, come on.

Now, the man
can hardly breathe.

Pedro Cruz.

Thank you, sir.
Thank you.

Pedro Cruz is...

not so lucky.
DOA, St. John's.

What about that barmaid?
Celia something.

Celia, Celia, Celia,
Celia Montalbano.

Montalbano.

Released, Mt. Sinai,
7:00 a.m.

Thanks.

By the way,
you were great.

Listen, you know
how gunshot vics act?

You mean, "Patch me up, Doc,
before the pigs get here"?

Yeah. You see anybody
with a bad burn,

- anybody acting like that...
- ASAP, Detective.

I owe you.

- Celia Montalbano?
- Si.

(speaking Spanish)

I've been here
seven years.

We understand you have
a boyfriend.

No, I don't have
a boyfriend.

(speaking Spanish)

- A man named Guillermo.
We're told you and he...
- He's a pig.

A borrachon.

I told him
to stop pestering me.

We hear that he's
in love with you.

I can't help that.

Let me tell you
something, all right?

Word gets around
that he torched that club,

there's gonna be a lot
of people looking for him,

not just us.
Understand me?

You're saying Guillermo
did that?

He's crazy, you know?

But he's not that bad.

Maybe you're right.

But I'm gonna need
his address, okay?

I haven't been out.

No television, Guillermo?
No radio?

All right, then,
we'll break the news.

Last night somebody
torched El Cielo,

and at least 50
of your people died.

Doesn't that mean
anything to you, man?

Give him back his medicine,
maybe it'll help his memory.

Listen.

According to witnesses,
you made a big stink last night

around 11:00 p.m.
What did you do after that?

No se.

No se?

Or won't say?

All right, let's go.

Cerreta:
Where were you all that time?

I don't know.

Logan:
Come on, Ruiz, think.

- I don't know.
- You got booted out
of the club...

We got traces
of gasoline.

- Regular unleaded.
- Really?

What brand?

We can't get it that close,

But I can tell you
how the guy did it.

It's the old gas can
in the trouser trick.

Or in this case,
the thing that holds

the windshield wiper
fluid in your car.

I don't really follow.

It's simple.

You run a tube down your leg
out your sock.

Nobody sees
a thing until...

and we're off
to the races.

And this is
a common MO?

Among your card-carrying
professional arsonists, yeah.

I mean, it's simple,
but it's tricky.

You got a container
of gasoline strapped

down there between
your legs.

One false move,
it's bye bye future
generation.

Our Mr. Ruiz here
does not strike me

as that smart,
or that lucky.

He doesn't look like
he could burn his way out
of a paper bag.

Fellas, Patrick seems to think we're
barking up the wrong tree

- with the jealous
boyfriend idea.
- Oh, really?

Last I heard,
the crime scene was
too hot to get into.

Now you got him
all sussed out?

We found this at the foot
of the stairs, Mike.

The guy was clever.

New variation on
an old arsonist's trick.

The guy's a firebug,
not a brain surgeon.

Phil?

Ruiz claims to be missing
a pretty crucial period of time.

But I don't know.
Maybe he was in a blackout.

I still can't imagine this guy wanting to kill
all those people.

Well, that might be
the guy, fellas.

I'm just saying,
if I were you,

I would start with arson-for-profit
and follow the money.

You got a fix
on who the owner is?

- Yeah, Jose Rivera.
- Cragen: Okay.

Check him out after
you take Mr. Ruiz home.

Maybe something
will come back to him.

And fellas, tomorrow
the DA's office

is holding
a press conference.

I would really like
to bring something to it.

(crowd yelling)

Back off!

Last night, sir, did you let
Mr. Ruiz into the apartment?

He said he lost
his keys again.

Next time, I'll let you sleep it off
on the street, estupido.

- When was that?
- About 11:30. The news
was just ending.

Do you know
if Mr. Ruiz went out
again last night?

No way.

That borrachon was dead
to the world.

Logan:
Oh well...

(sobbing)

Mr. Rivera.

- Yes?
- You don't seem surprised.

Cerreta:
Doesn't seem like much
of a building

to cause all that misery,
you know?

- I don't own this building.
- No?

Just the chairs
and tables.

I put up a new
PA system just last week.

- I'm sure they're all covered.
- I don't have insurance.

Can't get insurance
without papers.

You don't own it,
who does?

Cubano named Marcos.

I begged him
to put in sprinklers,
but he was too cheap.

You're such a safety nut,
how come you padlocked
the only exit door?

- They were always like that.
- Oh, yeah?

I don't suppose it was
to keep people from sneaking
in for free, huh?

I lost my only daughter
in there, mister,

and three of my cousins.

Now what have I got?

Captain Cragen
can we get a statement?

Showtime, Paul.
Do me a favor, will you?

Take the circus
outside with you.

They're here to get
your statement.

No comment.
Quote, unquote.

- At least it'll save a few trees.
- Forget the trees.

- The whole town's
in an uproar over this.
- Oh, yeah, right.

Everybody's feeling a lot
of righteous indignation

over the tragic loss
of a lot of people

who ordinarily they wouldn't
have the time of day for.

- That's a bit cynical.
- Is that right, Paul?

You come up here
with the DA's press liaison,

we don't have a suspect,
we don't have an eyewitness,

and the only physical evidence
we do have we are not releasing.

You mean the melted windshield
cleaner gizmo?

- And you heard that where?
- Sources.

Come on, Captain,
you got half the city commissioners

scrambling to reassess
the licensing practices of these...

And scrambling to cover their
own asses, which is not my problem.

As soon as I have something,
Katrina, okay?

What about you?
Remember the rap?

"The city deplores
the reckless disregard
for human life."

You give
good soundbite, Paul.

Bunch of shell
corporations.

Bottom line...
the real owner is
a guy named Marcos.

The "Voice" named him
"Slumlord of the Year" in '87.

Hang on, please.
And?

This guy's even done time
for safety code violations.
He's that bad.

Excellent.

Cerreta:
What time does
your boss usually get in?

Miss, it's important
we speak to him.

Has he called in
for messages?

Have you called
Mr. Marcos at home?

Okay, give us
his home address,

we'll go there ourselves.

Thank you.

- Mr. Marcos not here.
- We know.

- But where is he?
- He no come home last night.

Is Mrs. Marcos in?

She down
at the morgue.

- At the what?
- The morgue!

- She down at the morgue.
- Oh, brother.

Thank you.

Yeah, I understand.

And please tell His Honor
that we are submitting

the overtime paperwork
to prove it.

Oh, no, no.
Thank you.

Well?

The Coroner's Office
has confirmed Marcos's death
at 10:21 this morning.

Smoke inhalation.
And that shoots arson-for-profit.

What is less
than square one?

Minus zippo?
Negative bupkis?

- Oh, please, God.
- That head nurse...

says some guy came in begging them to
take care of his leg.

Begging.
Some kind of a wound,
plus a second-degree burn.

He took off,
but they got photos of him.

- X-rays?
- Yup.

- Don't forget a subpoena.
- You got it.

- What the hell is that?
- Something opaque.

Plastic, maybe.

Dr. Mendel wanted
to remove it,

but like I said, the patient apparently
had a big day
in front of him.

I bet.

We gave him cortisone,
and a cold compress for his leg,

and then he took off.

Limped off, actually.

With our piece of evidence
in his right thigh.

Please tell me you have
some paperwork on this man.

He paid cash, but...

he showed us
his green card.

Made a big deal of it,
actually.

I made a photocopy of it.

Daniel Esperanza.

28 East 137th Street.

Thank you.
You're the best.

There is nothing wrong
with my legs, okay?

Believe me.
We do, we do.

We just want
to be sure.

- You seem anxious.
- Well, I'm modest.
Is that a crime?

Come on, drop your pants
and we're out of here.

Okay? Let's go.
Drop them!

Turn around, please.

- Nope.
- Okay?

Okay. Sorry
for the aggravation.

Why didn't you come here
two weeks ago when my place
was robbed?!

Couple of weeks ago
a junkie broke into my place.

- Did you lose much?
- $50, plus la mica...
my green card.

Some junkie's got
your green card?

Yeah, it cost me
five grand

plus three years
of running around.

I wanted to break
his face,

but he started crying
he didn't have anything.

Plus he already
shoot it in his arms.

A junkie.
What are you gonna do?

Yeah.
What's his name?

Cheuy Bodillo,
down the hall.

Thank you.

What's the matter,
the elevator out of service, Cheuy?

Cerreta: You are under arrest.
You have the right to remain silent.
If you choose to waive that right,

anything you do say may be
used against you in a court of law.

Do you understand me?

Stupid, Cheuy.

Really dumb.

Steal a guy's green card,
and then show it to us?

Logan:
Maybe he thinks we're stupid.

I thought
it might work.

We all look the same
to you people.

Using a stolen ID.
That's a federal rap, ain't it?

Cerreta:
What the hell?

They're gonna take him off
our hands anyway.

Why should we waste
anymore time with this mope?

What's the big deal?

I made some copies, okay?

Who'd you sell them to?

To the janitor
in the building.

Plus some guy in the street.
I don't know.

That's all?

Who else, Cheuy?

Come on.

Cheuy:
A buddy of mine.

He was in some kind
of a jam.

What kind of jam?

He needed
medical treatment.

No green card,
no hospital.

He said there was
a grease fire

at the restaurant
where he works.

Which one?

I don't know the name.

135th and Lenox, man.

Your buddy, the cook,
who was he?

Cesar Pescador.

Good.

- Have you a warrant?
- Nope.

And I don't have
a reservation either.

We're not interested in anything you
might be hiding. Not yet.

(speaking Chinese)

This guy limps
pretty fast.

Get over here!

Keep your hands up there.

Cerreta:
Are you Pescador?

You are under arrest.

You have the right
to remain silent.

If you choose to waive
that right,

anything you do say
may be used against you
in a court of law.

Do you understand that?

I told you,
I was frying wontons,
and the grease blew up.

No, you weren't working
the night of the club fire.
We checked that.

I was at OTB
till it closed, man.

- I lost big time.
- What a surprise.

53 people died
in that fire.

A lot of families
are hurting bad, Cesar.

Sometimes it helps to talk.

- Sometimes it hurts.
- Are you hurting?

Man, my leg
is killing me, man.

- It's burning me up.
- Oh, yeah, why?

Too much sun, huh?
Too much sun?

You'd think,
listening to this guy,

that this is some kind
of a shoplifting beef.
I don't get this.

Ours is not to reason why,
Donny boy.

This freakin' yo-yo has got guilt written all
over him.

We're still gonna have
to determine a motive.
Just in case.

In case what?

Look, this is the way
it went down.

This jerk lit
the trail of gasoline,

it went backwards up
his leg into the container,
boom.

Now, that piece
of plastic in his leg

matches what we found
at the club...

- case closed, right?
- Maybe.

Fourth and Fifth Amendments
enter in here, gentlemen.

Did I miss something?

This guy is here illegally.

Constitution applies
to everyone.

Including illegals.

It says you get
to cut my leg open.

No, that's a consent form.
It says you agree to let us remove

whatever is causing
the infection in your leg.

You didn't do anything wrong,
you got nothing to worry about.

I'm not loco.
No damn butcher going
to cut my leg open.

All right, that's fine.
You want to be stupid.

I mean, you're going
to be limping on one leg.

You get it, genius?
Infection spreads.

The only way of saving
your life is to chop off that leg.

Don't I get a lawyer?

Yeah, you get a lawyer.

Cutting my client's
leg open to get a piece
of plastic is an atrocity.

If Judge Waxman grants
my motion,

Pescador gets the best
medical care the city has to offer.

Intrusive procedures
will be minimal.

What about
his well-being?

The operation could be
life-threatening.

He'll get better odds
than he gave the people at the club.

And if he
didn't do it?

Surgery against
his will.

It's the ultimate
invasion of privacy.

There are 53 families
screaming for your client's head.

His right to privacy...

that's for a court
to consider.

Robinette:
Your Honor, the People
would like to emphasize

the narrow scope
of the pending motion.

We feel the evidence,

currently imbedded
in the defendant's leg,

to be essential to the prosecution
of this case.

Judge:
Thank you, Counselors.
Be seated.

This is a difficult
decision.

It brings the rights
of the individual into
head-on conflict

with legitimate
governmental requirements.

However...

I'm inclined to grant

the People's
limited request.

What?!

- This is worse
than Castro, man!
- (yelling)

You can't cut my leg
without my say-so!

- I'm not going to no hospital!
- Order in this court!

I'm not going
to no hospital!

- All of you, sit down!
- (yelling continues)

Quiet in this courtroom!

Quiet! I said quiet,
or I'll clear the court!

- Excuse me.
- (gavel bangs)

Excuse me, Mr. Pescador.

We can and will.
Now, sit down.

The defendant will submit forthwith
to the surgical procedure,

which shall be conducted
in a manner consistent

with this Court's
written ruling.

Arson-for-profit
I can understand,

but what was driving
this guy?

Rage, maybe.

It's beyond me.

Robinette:
You have a fix yet?

Polymer analysis.
Margin of error,

plus or minus
a few measly molecules,
but not so you'd notice.

Meaning you've got a fix.

This piece?

The same plastic found
on the floor of the club.

- Absolutely.
- Windshield wiper reservoir?

Good old American plastic.
Still the best in the world.

It's a miracle this guy
didn't die of toxic shock.

The piece they took out
still has gasoline on it.

Robinette:
Attempted homicide?

Those 53 people are homicides!
They're dead.

He didn't mean
to kill anyone, Paul.

Don't tell me
you're even thinking about
negligent homicide.

Look, if he's only
a messenger boy,

he better start naming names,
or he's going down alone.

He says if he goes to prison,
the man'll have him killed.

Listen to me, man.

You don't go to jail,
there's about 500 grieving
relatives out there

who'll be happy to kill you!
You hear what I'm saying?!

I'll take my chances
with them.

This is a ridiculous
exercise.

No matter what,
he's going down.

We send him upstate,
downstate,

it doesn't matter,
somebody'll get him.

It's not a perfect world, Cesar,
but then you already know that.

(groans)

It ain't fair.

You know, that assassin
didn't even pay me.

- I get nothing for the deal.
- What assassin?

What's the deal?

Lawyer:
Tell him, Cesar.

Tell him!

A lot of people give
the Cubano

a lot of money
for their micas...

5, 6,000 cash.

And then they find out
they're bogus.

You know,
a bunch of paper, man.

- So they start making noise.
- What kind of noise?

A lot of lawyers
telling them,

"Hey, you got rights, too."

So the people,
they want to turn the Cubano in.

So he comes to me,
and he says,

"Cesar, I tell you
what to do.

You send those people
a message.

You put the fear
of God into them."

By burning down
the club?

It was supposed to be
a warning.

Like what they do
in El Salvador.

The Cubano, he says,
"So some people burn?

Then so what?

There's a whole lot more
where they come from."

The people in El Cielo,

a lot of Salvadorans...

they got the message.

They got the message.

The Cuban...
what's his name?

Guerra.
Domingo Guerra.

He owns
a club himself.

The Del Mundo.

Del Mundo.

Man:
Guerra's my partner.

So he owns 50%
of the club.

So he sits around
drinking Cuba libres.

I do all the work.

You got a partner?

- You're lucky.
- Where's Mr. Guerra now?

No idea.

(snaps)

What is this?

You can pull
this strong arm business
in Havana, but not here.

I call my lawyer,
he calls it harassment.

We sue your butt
from here to Miami.

God bless America.

This is a search warrant.

It specifically allows us
to look for stolen

or forged
immigration papers.

Now, I don't know
about Havana,

but what happens
in New York

is that the officers,
in pulling the place apart,

come across other things.

I can't believe
Mr. Guerra had anything

to do with that
terrible fire.

I've heard the rumors
on the street, yes,

but a man of his stature?

Where is he?

I don't know.

But he maintains
a small office in the back.

Sometimes he drops by,
occasionally.

For a Cuba libre?

Mr. Guerra has many irons
in many fires, senor.

Green card apps.

We also confiscated two
file cabinets filled with
completed forms.

If any of the victim's names
turn up...

Robinette:
We're still cross-referencing.

They use so many aliases,
it's hard to know who's who.

At 3,000 a shot,
this guy's making a lot of money.

It's funny we never heard
of him before.

I get the feeling
he's greased

a lot of palms
in the Hispanic community.

Vergilio made him sound
like the Godfather.

I wonder what Guerra's
immigration status is.

I'm not gonna give you
the old

"our records
are confidential" speech.

I didn't expect you to, Robert.
That's why I'm here.

I'm flattered.

But you overestimate
my clout, Ben.

I doubt that.

First Latino
on fraternity row?

They'd never seen a Cuban
in New Hampshire.

- I guess I was a novelty.
- So off the record.

Off the record,
I know who he is.

Everybody in
the community does.

He's got a lot
of friends.

And I hear that he has
a lot of irons in the fire,

according to
his business partner,

and not all of them
are on the books.

Guerra is to
the Latin community

what Adam Clayton Powell
was to the people of Harlem.

He's a hero.

Heroes don't incinerate

a room full
of innocent people.

That's right.

And that's why Guerra
couldn't be involved in any of this.

It was an awful tragedy.

Maybe your friend's
hiding something.

Stone:
The only possible thing
he is hiding is his agenda.

He's a political animal.

He's ambitious,
but not dirty.

And since
when is ambition...

and greed
mutually exclusive?

You don't know him.
I do.

Do you?

When I see 53 corpses
on the front page,

I don't see friendship.

I see bogus green cards,

I see intransigence
in the INS office,

and maybe I see
a connection.

- Isn't that a bit of a leap?
- Fine. Prove me wrong.

"Un reunion
de los amigos."

A meeting
of friends.

- Where'd you get these?
- La Verdad...

the Cuban-American
newspaper.

The guy in the shades
next to Diaz is Guerra.

The others
are prominent businessmen,
politicians.

This one looks like
Robert's yearbook photo.

"I know who he is."

They look a little more
familiar than that.

He's got his arm around you.
What do you expect me
to believe?

- We're demonstrative people.
Anything wrong with that?
- Give me a break.

Come on, Ben, you've been
to political parties yourself.

Everybody knows you,
everybody wants to have
their picture taken with you.

Ordinarily, politicians
are discreet enough

to confine their dealings
with criminals behind
closed doors!

I see, except Latinos.

We're all corrupt,
we're on the take.

Tinhorn dictators.

Don't start that oppressed
minority crap with me, Bobby.

We go back too far.

I'm out there insisting
your hands are clean.

My boss isn't so sure.

Okay. Ben...

Guerra helped me get
my first job

out of law school.
He helped a lot of us.

You needed a loan,
he was there.

You needed tickets
for fundraising,

he'd have them printed,
then he'd throw in the labor.

That kind of a thing.

What about printing
green cards?

On or off the record?

I don't think you understand
the gravity of this situation.

You administer
a green card program.

Guerra has an office filled
with forged forms

which he is selling.
Wake up, Roberto!

Okay.

What can I tell you?

For starters,
where was this taken?

This was
the Latino American Club,

116th Street
and Second Avenue.

Domingo Guerra?

I'm Assistant
District Attorney
Ben Stone.

This is ADA
Robinette.

Would you like a drink,
Licenciado?

I'd like a word
with you, sir.

I never set foot
in El Cielo.

A disco
for Salvadorans?

Do you consider yourself
above those people?

Am I being charged
with prejudice?

You can be charged
with conspiracy

to defraud the United States
government.

- So change your tune.
- United States?

Stone:
Yes, sir.

Is the State of New York
pinch-hitting

for the federal government,
Mr. Stone?

No, but I'll tell you
what we can do.

We can charge you
with possession

with intent to sell forged
immigration documents.

That comes under state
and federal jurisdiction.

Then, of course,
there'll be Cesar Pescador's

testimony that you offered
him money to burn down the club.

(whispering)

My client denies
this charge, of course.

But he's wondering
if you'd be interested in talking to an INS
agent.

Which agent?

A man he can implicate
in the deaths of these people.

In exchange for a plea bargain,
of course.

No, that's completely premature.

You give us the name of the agent,
and we'll see.

The man's name
is Collins.

James Collins.
Manhattan office.

Of course
I know Guerra.

I've been investigating
him for years.

Why wasn't I apprised
of this?

I don't bother you
with every minor case.

Excuse me... minor?

The guy hires illegals
to work day jobs.

They get 20 bucks
for 10 hours work,

Guerra gets 30 per head.

For this we get a visit
from the locals?

The District Attorney
has information

that you've been skying
green cards.

- You and Guerra together.
- (chuckles)

That's slick.

The best defense
is a good offense.

Where do they get
this crap?

We are continuing
the investigation, Mr. Collins,

and if you care
to cooperate...

Get lost.

You know the man.
What do you think?

We'll run
an internal audit.

See how many apps
he's written in the past few years.

That's not good enough.

What do you want me to do?

First I give up my patron,

now it's coming down
on my own office.

Guerra:
Real Havana cigars?

It's hard to find
in this country.

Not for long, I imagine.

Anyway, I don't smoke,
and neither do you in my office.

What are you bringing
to the table, Tommy?

Proof that my client
was an unwilling participant

in this green card business.

- I'm listening.
- Well, you know the game.

You want quid,
we want the quo.

I'm listening,
but I'm not about

to make a blind commitment
to a mass murderer.

Mr. Stone,
I'm a businessman,

in business with an agent
of the United States government.

You are a man who betrayed
his own people at $3,000 a head.

I don't need to listen
to this cheap suit.

Mr. Guerra is willing to testify against Mr.
Collins of the INS,

to explain to the jury
how Collins conceived the plan

to hire Cesar Pescador,

and to threaten the patrons
of the El Cielo into silence.

Maybe you'd
explain it to us.

Collins went to a big league
firebug for help.

- Name?
- He's called...

Professor.

My client will explain
this and more,

in exchange for one count
of conspiracy to defraud.

A class "E" felony?
Give it up.

The bill
of indictments against you

will probably run
to hundreds of pages.

Now, somewhere in there

I might find a little space
for compromise.

Possibly a sentencing
recommendation.

(speaking Spanish)

He's being reasonable,
Domingo.

You'd better cooperate.

Simmons, Alan Brown,
Max Dworkin,

Romaine Ireland...

Addresses?

Simmons still has
two to go in Attica,

Brown's dead,
Dworkin skipped bail...

Tahiti, if he's smart.

What about Ireland?

"Romie the Bug."

Nine years in the can for torching
a dry cleaner's in Queens.

Paroled last July.

Thanks.
Mm-hmm.

I play bridge,
tend my roses.

I read a lot.
Yeah, right.

You're a gentleman
and a scholar.

I never killed anybody.

It's just a business,
and I'm retired.

Not entirely.

Somebody needs advice,

you give it to them,
sell it to them.

What am I saying?

Next thing you know,
there's 53 corpses
on the sidewalk.

Your MO, Professor...
your neck.

Okay.

Guy comes up to me,
I don't know, maybe he's
writing a book.

I give him the benefit
of my experience.

Which was?

Which was, if I was to go
into a crowded place

and didn't want
to be noticed,

I'd use the hidden
container trick.

What kind
of container?

Anything that'll fit down
your trouser leg.

In this case,
a windshield washer reservoir.

Is this the guy?

For complete immunity,
I could be 100% certain.

You rang, Chief?

Come in.

Sit down.

Did you remove
the windshield liquid reservoir

from your partner's car,
Mr. Collins?

The what?

What is this?

Read this.

It's a sworn,
notarized statement

from the mechanic who services
your official vehicles.

He witnessed you
under the hood.

Well, he's a liar.

I don't care
if it is notarized.

Did you ask Romaine Ireland
for advice

on starting the fire
in club El Cielo?

Never heard of him.

He's heard of you.

I don't care,
I never...

This man.

Remember him now?

Am I under arrest?

Not yet.

Can I at least
call a lawyer?

Guerra roped in
the victims,

but it was Collins
who shut 'em up.

Then we put them
on trial together.

"Solicitation.

Criminal solicitation
in the first degree,

arson in the first degree,

murder in the second degree...
53 counts."

This will make a hell
of an indictment.

Is Collins worse
than Guerra?

A man who's in a position
to help his own people...
do a thing like that?

What happened to
"Give me your huddled masses"?

What the hell's happened
to this city?

Woman:
Anaya, Jose, 23;

Rivera, Jesus, 31...

Avilo, Maria, 18;

Ponce, Roberto, 33;

Sangre, Margarita, 27...

Chavez, Angela, 27;

Soto, Manuel, 42;

Soto, Paula, 36;

Franco, Clara, 18;

Ascencio, Salvador, 22;

Carillo, Gregorio, 19;

Rodas, Isabel, 29;

Domingez, Tomas, 20;

Godinez, Maria, 19;

Blanca, Maria, 31;

Otero, Roberto, 27;

Prieto, Felicia, 18;

Morales, Yolanda, 29;

Sevilla, Maria, 21;

Vasquez, Blanca, 20...

(theme music plays)