Law & Order (1990–2010): Season 4, Episode 5 - Black Tie - full transcript
Briscoe and Logan get an anonymous call that a Manhattan millionaire playboy has been murdered. But his widow and her lawyer claim that the death was natural causes, and the detectives are getting nowhere, until the dead man's son produces evidence he says proves that his stepmother committed murder.
(male 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.
(Danielle)
The Beckerman luncheors
been changed to a brunch.
Why am I just hearing
about this now?
They called yesterday,
after you left, madame.
So sorry.
Well, change hair
and nails to 9:30...
and wake Mr. Keyes.
Yes, madame.
[Clears throat]
[Knocking on door]
Mr. Keyes?
Mr. Keyes?
Mr. Keyes?
[Gasping]
I'm in great shape.
Come on, feel my legs.
Profaci, don't ask,
don't tell.
Stop.
[Laughing]
So...
how much is this 100-mile walk
gonna cost us?
It's only 25 cents a mile.
All right, put me down.
Hello, 27. Briscoe.
If you go the distance,
it's $25?
Right.
What is it,
for saving the whales?
Come on,
it's for handicapped kids.
Cough it up, come on.
No, I know the address,
but I need your name.
You owe me $10.
Some woman says Jonathan Keyes
was murdered last night...
in the penthouse
at Keyes Towers.
Probably a crank call.
Hey, it's a chance to see
how the other half lives.
Wait here, please.
Mr. Darby will speak with you.
We'd rather speak
with Mr. Keyes.
(Darby)
I'll handle it, Felix.
Garrett Darby,
the Keyes' family attorney.
Det. Logan, Det. Briscoe.
We're checking
on a call we received,
that Mr. Keyes was murdered.
Mr. Keyes passed away
last night,
but of natural causes.
There was no reason
for anyone to call you.
Where's the body?
In the guest suite.
A lawyer beats us to the body.
That's unique.
These people get a hangnail,
their first call is
to some pinstriped shyster.
I tried to wake him,
I called him by name...
I touched him. No response.
So I called Dr. Brackley.
Family history
of hypertension.
Looks like heart failure.
What was the occasion?
He attended a charity dinner,
and then the ballet.
Conveniently dressed
for his funeral.
We separated after the ballet.
I went to a party
at Bunny Chapmars,
Jon wanted to get home early.
(Logan)
Did he?
Did he what?
Get home early.
Why, I have no idea.
I got home around 4:00
and went straight to bed.
I didn't see him.
Separate rooms?
I have a sleep disorder.
The slightest sound
disturbs me.
And sometimes
we slept apart.
Any idea who it was
that called us and said
he was murdered?
Well, someone must have
informed the tabloids...
and they called you,
hoping for a headline.
"Police Investigate
Keyes' Death."
It's a pity
you had to oblige them.
Yes, Felix?
The men from
the Medical Examiner's Office
are here.
They want to remove Mr. Keyes.
What?
(Briscoe)
We called them, Mrs. Keyes.
We need
a determination of death.
You're not taking
my husband's body out of here.
Ma'am, without a signed
death certificate...
the M.E. Has to look
at the body.
Excuse me, Det. Logan.
I've spoken
to Commissioner Hastings...
made him aware
of this outrage.
You know the law, Counselor.
Yes, I know it.
And you know that
a restraining order
will prevent...
anyone from touching
that mars body.
I'm not having my husband
carved up in some morgue.
That's not our intention,
Mrs. Keyes.
I'm Lt. Van Buren.
Are you here
to stop this outrage?
You called these gentlemen?
Yes...
they're from
Ehrhardt's Funeral Home
on 88th.
Let them take the body.
The Medical Examiner's
people...
can do a review
at the funeral home.
We'll enjoin
against any autopsy.
Why don't we just see
if the M.E. Can
put this to rest...
with a non-invasive
examination?
I know this is
a terrible time for you,
Mrs. Keyes...
but I'm sure you want to know
why your husband died.
As long as he's
not cut open.
[Traffic humming]
Hey, what in the hell
was that?
What was what?
You come out here,
and you make us look
like a couple of idiots.
We did get a call
reporting a murder.
Well, I got calls, too.
Yeah, and without
talking to us
you pulled the plug.
The plug was pulled
before I walked in that door.
That body was headed
for injunction.
Get real, Lieutenant.
We couldn't handle it?
Is that what you're saying?
What you can't handle
is my rank in a skirt.
But this is neither the time
nor the place to discuss it.
Now, I want you to find out
what's really going on here...
before this thing
picks up more profile.
No bruises, abrasions,
nail marks, obvious fractures.
There's some indication
of water immersion. The skin
on his fingers was wrinkled.
And no way to tell
about any water in the lungs?
No, but it seems unlikely.
No petechial hemorrhages
or ecchymosis.
Okay, so that rules out
strangulation, suffocation.
What about poisoning?
We might find something
in nasal swabs or saliva.
I couldn't get
clean blood samples.
He was too polluted.
Polluted with what?
Formaldehyde.
The body was embalmed
before I arrived
at the funeral home.
The director said
family's orders.
Mrs. Keyes insists he goes
to a funeral home...
then gets him embalmed
before they get
a blood sample.
You gotta give me
a break on that.
That stinks.
Mike, what's wrong
with this picture?
He's wearing a cummerbund.
He was laid out in a vest.
They dressed him
after his death.
Could be for appearances.
Maybe he died on the toilet.
Maybe he died in the saddle
with somebody
other than Mrs. Keyes.
Marcela Di Portago.
We always flirted very openly.
The media loved it,
and Jonathan loved having
his picture in the paper.
Mrs. Keyes share that love?
Danielle is a silent partner
in this business.
She thought
talk of Kesey and me
would be good for trade.
Where did the good friends go
when the music stopped?
I left Dardenelle's on my own
around 2:00...
and he was left
with the latest set
of cheekbones.
She have a name?
They all have names...
but I never keep track
of who Kesey's
playing house with.
(Murphy)
Four years back I picked
him up at LaGuardia.
Got him across town
through the barricades
on Puerto Rican Parade Day...
and from then on,
I was his man.
It's been good.
I'll miss him.
Maybe Mrs. Keyes
will keep the limo.
She can keep the job
that goes with it.
She's not fun,
like Mr. Keyes?
Nasty piece of work.
Anyway, lucky for me,
Mr. K didn't spend
a whole lot of time with her.
Who did he
spend his time with?
Nowadays, just Cathy Rogers,
the cover girl.
What about her? Is she
just something to wear
on his arm for the night?
No, no, they were
getting regular.
He cared about her.
Did Mrs. Keyes care
that he cared?
Mrs. Keyes cared about
Mrs. Keyes, period.
(photographer)
Lovely, darling. All right,
a little more smile.
Perfect. I love it.
(photographer)
I'm not seeing your eyes.
Excuse me.
We're looking
for Cathy Rogers.
She's not here.
That's not
what her agency said.
Okay.
(photographer)
Perfect. Lovely.
The press have been driving
the poor thing crazy.
She came here to hide.
She's in no shape to work.
Cathy...
these men are from the police.
I'm Det. Briscoe.
This is Det. Logan.
She killed him.
You think that?
Did you call the police?
No. But when I heard
he was dead, I knew.
We happen to know
you were with him
last night.
If I tell you something,
how do I know you're not
going to sell it to the press?
My manager says,
as an exclusive,
my story's won'th a lot.
Maybe even a TV movie deal.
Well, it could also mean
obstruction and time
in a cell at Bedford.
Why would I withhold evidence?
I was crazy for Kesey.
I told everyone
he was the best lover
I ever had.
Living up to that
might be quite a challenge
for a guy his age.
Maybe last night,
he was reaching for the stars
and got a vapor lock?
There was nothing wrong
with him last night.
He was great, like always.
Afterwards, we took a shower
together.
He wanted more...
but I had an early shoot,
so I left.
Was he wearing a tux
when you tucked him in?
He was watching CNN
when I left.
When I got home, I called him,
so he'd know that I was okay.
We talked for a while,
then she came into his room...
so we had to hang up.
The whore is lying.
I didn't speak to him.
I can't even confirm
or deny that he had
a guest in his suite.
We didn't intrude
on each other's lives.
Well, the problem is,
you told us
he slept downstairs...
because of your
sleep disorder.
Well, I really didn't see
where my sex life
was any of your business.
Doesrt it bother you
that someone out there...
is describing your
late husband as the best lover
she's ever had?
Read the tabloids, Mr. Logan.
She's not the first.
Jonathan gave his last slut
a check for $25,000
for giving him rave reviews.
He had a large ego.
I accepted it
and I was well compensated.
Yeah, well, we still
have a problem about the tux.
Perhaps she was presenting him
with an award.
I'm sorry I'm late.
Traffic was bad.
Do I have to submit to this?
What is the law?
The law is that these men
have no business investigating
Mr. Keyes' death.
Here's a report from the
Medical Examiner's Office...
stating his opinion
that Jonathan Keyes
died of natural causes.
Felix will show you out.
My uncle died
in his bib overalls.
Before the relatives arrived,
he was
in a white linen suit...
with his hands
folded over a Panama hat.
There's nothing unusual
about dressing him.
Yeah, but none of your cousins
called the police
and said he was murdered.
Uncle Willie didn't have
24-hour-a-day surveillance
by the press.
We've got the girl du jour
who says that the wife
paid him a visit...
just before he died.
Who's also trying to sell
the movie rights.
Look, nine out of 10
of the little people
are saying the wife's guilty.
But it doesn't
build you a case.
Lennie, just took a call
for you.
The son, Lance Keyes,
wants a call back at his club.
Have fun.
He's with his lawyer.
Case closed?
Officially, you're on lunch.
We played squash last week.
He beat me three straight.
This was not natural causes.
The Medical Examiner
disagrees.
What, like those people
can't be bought?
Lance's father
was planning a divorce.
The pre-nuptial agreement
would have limited Danielle...
to the income
from a $1 million trust.
And she can't live on that?
Well, she could
live a lot better
on a third of his assets.
That comes to $36 million
she would get from his will...
not to mention the estate
in Southampton.
Where the grieving widow
is entertaining
200 of his closest mourners...
even as we speak.
Well,
you have to understand...
we're stuck
with the M.E.'s report
until we get something new.
Look, if it's
a matter of money...
(Webber)
Lance.
We just want to help you
any way we can.
Kids hate their stepmothers
on principle. Read Cinderella.
And young Lance here
has a legitimate motive,
his old mars dough.
I mean, anything that doesn't
go to the wife goes directly
into his bank account.
Listen,
funeral homes, no morgue,
embalmings, no autopsy...
somebody else is
calling our shots here.
You got a couple of
hundred million,
you get treated different
when you kick.
Come on.
When was the last time
someone reported a murder...
and CSU didn't work the room?
Well, I don't see anybody
giving us a warrant...
and I don't see me
blowing my pension
over this.
Walk on the wild side, Lennie.
If this guy is a victim...
we got every right
to get up close and personal
with the crime scene.
[Sighing]
Well, let's hope the weather
holds in the Hamptons.
I think I really must call
Mrs. Keyes. I'm sure
she would not allow this.
Remember Mr. Keyes?
You think he'd allow it?
You have to polish
all this stuff?
A different specialist
for every body part.
I'm glad I'm not rich enough
to know how sick I am.
Different doctors,
but all from
the same pharmacy.
[Logan exclaims]
Someone didn't clean
too well.
The brown spot, dried blood?
Injection, maybe.
Look at this.
That look like the top
of a medicine bottle to you?
Boy, everything ends up
in the dust ruffle.
What's that,
the luck of the Irish?
Yeah, maybe.
Lab report on the cotton.
The brown spot is blood.
It matches Keyes' type...
minute traces
of rubbing alcohol
and insulin.
That's wonderful, Mike.
Let me ask you this.
Either one of you
ever hear of a warrant?
It's the victim's apartment.
You don't need a warrant
for a crime scene.
It's also the grieving
widow's apartment, which
may make your precious...
cotton ball
inadmissible against her.
Well, at least now we know
what we're looking for.
People die
from too much insulin.
Ever think the guy
was diabetic?
Okay, so we get a warrant
for the pharmacy's records.
Any warrant gets us a call
from downtown.
Forget the judge.
We'll talk to the housekeeper.
She ought to know
if there's a diabetic
in the family.
I certainly would have known
if anyone has diabetes.
How can you be so sure?
Because I make
all the doctor's
appointments...
and I know everything
that goes on in their lives.
You mean, like, why Mr. Keyes
got up at 4:00 in the morning
and put on a tux?
Look, you want to tell us
once more how he really looked
when you found him?
Why should I?
I mean, people tell you
something, you don't pay
any attention, anyhow.
Mike, don't you think
it's funny...
that we find
a stray cotton ball
in the bedroom?
Makes me wonder
who made that call.
It was you, wasrt it?
I don't know
what you're talking about.
All right, look, we're gonna
finish this conversation
at the precinct.
I have the right
to make a call.
(Helga)
Well, Mrs. Keyes did not...
want him found nude, see.
And with the room, of course,
it was obvious...
you know,
what had been going on.
So you cleaned up
before you called us.
Yes.
I made the bed...
and I dressed him.
Now, why did you do that?
Because I wanted
to find out...
if there was
any indication of murder.
Besides,
Mr. Keyes always told me...
I had to obey Mrs. Keyes.
[Laughs]
Of course, he knew how I felt.
Well, if you didn't like her,
why didn't you quit?
We go back a long time...
to his first marriage.
And I raised their son,
Lance...
and when his mother died...
I was needed.
[Chuckles]
I stayed.
[Knocking on door]
[Door opening]
Lance Keyes and his attorney
are here.
I guess now we know
who Helga called.
What do you mean,
you investigated on your own?
Well, things
were going slowly...
and Lance thought
it would be prudent...
to hire his own investigator.
Somebody who wouldn't be
intimidated by my stepmother.
He found this bag
in Mrs. Keyes' bathroom.
And inside the bag
he found a smaller bag...
which contained...
We had it tested.
It's coated with insulin.
That's how she killed him.
How do we know
it wasrt your father's?
Mr. Keyes wasrt allowed
into her bedroom...
much less into her bathroom.
(Webber)
We also obtained...
payment records
from Bergmars Pharmacy.
Two weeks ago,
Mrs. Keyes purchased...
insulin and syringes.
This is all very convenient.
How can I be sure
someone didn't plant all this?
The syringe
is covered with her prints.
You can test it yourself,
if you like.
She was the only one home
that night.
Excuse us a minute.
[Sighing]
If they were all this easy...
I don't like being
hand delivered evidence
by an interested party.
Hey, if our hands
werert tied,
we would have found it.
You've got insulin
on the needle,
in her bathroom...
her prints, the girlfriend
puts her at the scene.
You got probable cause
for arrest.
But nothing links it
to the mars death.
Remember the M.E.'s report.
(Briscoe)
Natural causes.
Because the M.E.'s hands
were tied, they couldn't
touch the body, remember?
As long as we're stuck
with that report,
we don't have a murder.
Oh, come on.
You're not saying
we're gonna back off?
No. I'm gonna call the D.A.,
and we're gonna dig Keyes up.
Lieutenant, I don't care
who called you.
Either you investigate
a case properly or you
consider an early retirement.
Hold it.
Everything I did
was by the book,
in capital letters.
By preventing an autopsy?
Read the file.
The doctor on the scene said
he died of natural causes.
And it never
occurred to you...
that he might have
had a personal stake
in that diagnosis?
Remind me never to take a trip
with you in the back seat,
Counselor.
It's an easy call now,
in this office.
(Schiff)
I'm not unaware of your
predicament, Lieutenant.
Twenty-six calls
this morning...
including seven congressmen
and three judges.
People are taking
"rest in peace"
very seriously.
But it's got nothing to do
with the facts, Adam.
You both know it...
and you're going to
let that influence you?
No, but it may influence
the poor bastard
on the bench...
who's gotta decide
whether to start
digging up dead bodies.
Mrs. Keyes is in your office
with her attorney,
Prof. Norman Rothenberg.
(Schiff)
There you go.
The rich are different.
They get better lawyers.
Damn it, Ben,
what happened to civility?
The mars dead and buried.
We'd just like to confirm
that that ceremony
wasrt premature.
What, is business so slow
you had to start
manufacturing crimes?
Well, she certainly
had motive.
In a few years, Ms. Kincaid,
hopefully...
you will be able to judge
without being judgmental.
(Stone)
An insulin-encrusted
syringe...
with your client's
fingerprints on it,
found in her bathroom.
That's about as close
to a smoking gun
as you can get.
If there were evidence
that the cause of death
was insulin poisoning, yes.
The chicken or the egg,
Norman. That's why
we applied for an exhumation.
And you expect a judge
to raise the dead on a hunch?
A cotton ball
with traces of insulin
found in his room.
That's hardly a jump.
Please don't insult me.
You know the cotton
was illegally obtained.
A judge can't
ever consider that.
It was the victim's apartment.
It was a condo, Ben,
held in tenancy
by the entirety.
At Mr. Keyes' death...
the property
moved to Mrs. Keyes
as a matter of law.
So you can
go around in circles
as much as you want...
Ben, it still isn't going
to get you anywhere.
[Sighs]
I'll let a judge decide.
And when he does, a simple...
"I'm sorry"
won't be sufficient.
Is that a threat, Norman?
No.
It's a promise.
[Sighing]
Somehow, I don't feel
that sorry for her.
Let's get enough back-up
so that a judge has to agree.
Danielle was
to the manor born.
Only they just
put a third mortgage
on the manor.
Jonathars bank account
helped put the shine back
in her crown.
Her granddaddy was
some sort of a duke.
Did Mr. Keyes know that
his wife only married him
for the money?
Well, Jonathars interests
were more libidinous.
You should have seen Danny
10 years ago.
She looked a little
like Cathy Rogers.
Supermodel.
Can anyone blame him?
I'm really only interested in
whether his wife blamed him.
Well, in their circles,
these kind of flings
are expected.
But what's good for the gander
is not always
good for the goose.
Mrs. Keyes
had a relationship, too?
Jonathars ego
couldn't take it.
Who was the boyfriend?
Well, to put it delicately...
Marcela Di Portago...
was more
than a business partner.
(Marcela)
Havert you heard
it's chic to be gay?
And if she was anything,
Danielle was chic.
It lasted a few months.
So it wasrt serious?
Look, Danielle was curious.
She needed something
to talk about in the sauna.
It was nothing.
Well, unfortunately,
it was to Jonathan.
Why, because he didn't
get to watch?
My dalliance with Danielle
may have been touted...
as grounds
for the upcoming divorce.
But it wasrt the reason.
Well, what was?
My guess is, poor Kesey
finally got tired
of using the guest room.
You mean he wasrt there
out of choice?
More like out of desperation.
Playing the male
rogue hormones was his way
of trying to excite her.
So you're saying
that he loved her?
Of course it was useless.
There was a reason
why Cosmo calls her
the "Ice Princess."
In 10 years, I saw her
get excited only once...
when Lutece
ran out of Chateau d'Yquem.
Expensive way
to wash down your medicine.
Did she use insulin?
Supplied more than generously
by Whit Ferguson.
The writer?
Of course, I am myopic...
allergic, xenophobic...
and some of my closer friends
would swear on a stack...
that I'm schizophrenic.
Do you think I'm paranoid?
I'm really only interested
in the diabetes, sir.
Shame.
It's the least fun of all.
The price of overindulgence
and my grandfather's curse.
For leaving Charleston,
you understand.
And you're required
to inject insulin?
Sins of the fathers.
What is it again that you do?
I'm an assistant
district attorney.
Face like that,
you should be sipping Cristal
in the Bois de Boulogne...
and not black coffee
at Irving's
on Court Street.
[Chuckling]
Amazing what the Russians
can do with a potato.
So, it's really
a terrific scandal,
don't you think?
I always knew she had
murder in her eyes.
And you got her the insulin?
You don't need
a prescription, my dear.
Well, you do for syringes.
True.
To tell the truth,
I always thought
a pearl-handled derringer...
in a beaded purse
was more her style.
As far as I knew,
the insulin was purely
for the war on cellulite.
She injected herself
in order to lose weight?
Some people will do anything
to fit into a size 3.
The Keyes were convinced
that insulin would burn off
all those creme brulees.
You mean Jonathan Keyes
injected himself, too?
Oh, Johnny boy
didn't have the gumption
to stick a needle in himself.
No, he just closed his eyes
and let Danny
have all the fun.
[Chuckling]
When was the last time
you gave her a syringe?
I couldn't be bothered.
I instructed my pharmacist
that from time to time...
Mrs. Keyes would be picking up
my prescription for me.
These people
never heard of exercise?
Why sweat
when you can shoot up?
I thought insulin
induced coma,
not heart failure.
Well, Keyes' physician
said hypertension
ran in the family.
And M.E. Told me...
that an unwarranted amount
of insulin could definitely
cause cardiac problems.
We still can't prove
Mrs. Keyes did
the injecting.
Whit Ferguson signed
an affidavit...
saying that Mr. Keyes
never injected himself.
Now, Ben, they found
a used syringe in her bathroom
with her prints on it.
I think that's sufficient
to warrant an autopsy, even if
I am a little prejudiced.
You are?
Yeah.
Well, let's hope Judge Mooney
shares your character flaw.
I've reviewed the State's
application and the affidavits
filed therewith...
and I have to say
they make a hell
of a compelling argument.
Can I assume...
by your virtual lack
of answering papers,
Professor...
that you're letting this
go unopposed?
No, on the contrary,
Your Honor.
There's no way that
mere documentation
can communicate...
the enormity
of our opposition.
This is a factual finding,
Norman, it's not a melodrama.
And have we reached the point
in jurisprudence where...
humanity and compassion
have been totally discarded?
Please, Mr. Rothenberg.
I have enough trouble
breathing the air outside.
I assume Mrs. Keyes
wishes to make a statement.
She does, Your Honor.
Take your time, Danielle.
This is my husband
we're discussing,
not some corpse.
For 10 years, we were happy.
Normars told me what happens
during an autopsy.
I don't know what you have
against us, Mr. Stone.
I assume it must be the money.
I doubt that you'd go to
this trouble for anyone else.
You just don't understand.
I loved him.
Mrs. Keyes, how do you explain
the used hypodermic needle...
with your fingerprints on it,
found in your bathroom?
No, I always disposed
of the needles
when I was through.
I haven't injected myself
for several months.
The pharmacy's records
indicate...
that you purchased insulin
within two weeks
of your husband's death.
Well, yes,
but that was for Jonathan.
I wanted him to stop.
I knew that
it wasrt healthy...
but he was
a chronic overeater...
and he injected himself
every time he had a big meal.
Mr. Ferguson stated
in his affidavit...
that your husband was afraid
of injecting himself.
At first, but when I refused
to inject him...
his vanity overcame his fear.
Then, Mrs. Keyes,
what were your fingerprints
doing on that syringe?
I have no idea.
The attending physician
certified that
the cause of death...
was cardiac arrest.
Which is consistent
with an insulin overdose,
Your Honor.
If it was,
somebody somewhere
is liable for something.
The body will be exhumed
with all due speed.
And, Mrs. Keyes...
if the autopsy comes up
negative...
you have my deepest apologies.
Thank you.
Tissue samples were removed
from the coronal mastoid area
and right frontal lobes.
We run an RIA and...
This is his brain.
[Beeping]
[Woman chattering
on PA system]
This is his brain on drugs.
What kind of drugs?
Your Mr. Keyes
was swimming in insulin.
Surprise, surprise.
It's enough for an arrest.
Not exactly
the Staten Island Ferry.
You kidding?
These people could probably
buy Staten Island.
Not now, Popeye.
Couldrt this wait
until tomorrow?
I told your office
that Mrs. Keyes would
surrender voluntarily.
Danielle Keyes, you're
under arrest for the murder
of Jonathan Keyes.
You have the right to remain...
Come on, Detective.
Don't you think I've already
advised Mrs. Keyes...
on everything she needs
to know? And the handcuffs
certainly won't be necessary.
Counselor,
you've heard of pro forma.
You have the right
to remain silent.
(Quinn)
It was in Mrs. Keyes'
bathroom, under the sink.
There was a bag,
like a gym bag.
I opened it, and there was
a small cloth purse inside.
And in that purse?
There was a syringe
and an empty vial.
Is this the syringe,
Mr. Quinn?
Yes.
Offered as evidence.
Call it People's 14.
And what did you do
with the syringe?
I took it
to the Tyler-Hampton
Laboratory.
They tested it...
and they told me
there were still traces
of insulin on the needle.
Thank you.
Who was it who first
suggested that you search
Mrs. Keyes' bathroom?
Their son, Lance Keyes.
And did he specifically
ask you to search the cabinet
beneath the sink?
Yes.
And when you found
the gym bag, did you
open it immediately?
No, it was locked.
Lance told me
to rip it open.
Let me back up
a few steps here,
Mr. Quinn.
On the day of your search,
did Lance actually let you
into the apartment?
No, he didn't have a key.
The housekeeper let us in.
Did you have a warrant, sir?
I've been off the police force
10 years now.
I'm a private citizen.
I don't need a warrant.
It was a good search.
It sounds like a good burglary
to me.
Objection.
I object, too,
Your Honor...
and I renew my motion
to suppress the syringe...
as it was obtained
by an illegal search.
You're both overruled.
By the way, Mr. Quinn...
how much did Lance Keyes
pay you for your services?
$20,000.
It was a little after 8:30...
I found him
on the bathroom floor, naked.
Can you explain why
the dead body was...
fully clothed
when the police arrived?
Well, Mrs. Keyes asked me
to clean him up.
It wouldn't look right,
she said, considering.
When you found
Mr. Keyes on the floor...
was there a syringe
or any other drug
paraphernalia in the area?
No.
One last question, Miss Holtz.
Why did you call the police
and tell them that Mr. Keyes
had been murdered?
Because I know Mrs. Keyes.
Thank you.
Your Honor, my associate,
Gerald Austin...
will be conducting
the remainder of the trial.
Any objections, Mr. Stone?
No, Your Honor.
To the best of your memory...
what did you serve
to Mr. Keyes
for dinner that night?
(Helga)
Veal roast, mashed potatoes,
and...
oh, yes, a white Bordeaux.
What about dessert?
German chocolate cake.
And a sauterne, yeah.
Did Mr. Keyes have
more than one slice of cake?
He had two.
Sounds to me
like you're trying
to fatten him up.
Well, I didn't pick the menu,
you know. Mrs. Keyes did.
Yet you served it...
knowing full well
that it would surely
cause him...
to inject himself
with a potentially
dangerous drug?
I would never...
never hurt Mr. Keyes.
(Stone)
$400 an hour is a lot to pay
for the second string.
I assume you're giving
Mrs. Keyes a discount.
Well, the trial
is spring training, Ben.
Season doesn't start
until I'm pitching
to a room full of judges.
Norman, even you need
grounds for appeal.
And on the record so far,
it won't be easy.
In 20 years, DiMaggio
never had to dive for a ball.
They all came right to him.
It's funny how that works.
That went right past me.
He's gonna throw
this whole thing
right in the tank.
He thinks he already
has grounds for appeal.
He's giving his assistant
a little experience...
while he gets a head start
on his brief.
But appeal with what?
I was at his apartment
until 2:00 in the morning...
and then his driver, Murphy,
took me home.
Were you alone
in the apartment?
No.
The lights were on
in the master bedroom.
Mrs. Keyes was upstairs.
When you arrived home,
what did you do?
I called Jonathan.
He wanted to be sure
I got home okay.
We talked for about
five minutes...
and then he said
he had to go.
Why is that?
Jonathan said that
she wanted to talk to him.
You mean Mrs. Keyes?
Yes.
Thank you.
Did you actually
hear Mrs. Keyes...
while you were
on the phone?
He was talking to a woman.
Helga was gone.
Who else would be
in his apartment
at that hour?
That's right, what would
possibly make me think...
that a woman
other than his wife
would enter his bedroom?
(Danielle)
Yes, the gym bag was mine...
but I have no idea
how it got into
my bathroom cabinet.
What about the cloth purse?
Yes, that was mine, too,
but I haven't used it
for months.
I keep it at our house
in Southampton.
When you found out
that your husband
had passed away...
what did you do?
I telephoned Lance.
And where was he
at the time?
At our house in Southampton.
(Austin)
The same place
you kept the cloth purse.
Does that suggest anything
to you, Mrs. Keyes?
Objection.
Withdrawn.
Thank you, Mrs. Keyes.
One more question,
Mrs. Keyes.
Did you ever
give Lance permission
to go into your bathroom?
Of course not.
I never gave him permission
to enter my apartment.
Your witness.
Mrs. Keyes,
why does your husband
sleep in the guest room?
I assume he had company.
And does he often
have company?
We were married, Mr. Stone.
What we did, where we did it,
with whom it was done
was irrelevant.
I loved Jonathan
and he loved me.
But don't you get angry...
when you know
your husband is sleeping
with another woman...
in your own apartment?
I don't expect you
to understand.
Jonathan and I were different.
Ah, yes, it would seem so...
because most people,
when they want
to lose weight...
they eat less.
And most wives, they care...
when their husbands
have affairs,
and most wives...
when they find...
their husband dead
on the bathroom floor...
they call the police...
before they dress him up
in a tuxedo. Isn't that right?
I am not most people,
Mr. Stone.
But if your husband
divorced you, you would be,
wouldn't you?
And then you'd be
just like everybody else.
And you couldn't stand that,
could you?
Mr. Stone.
Any objections, Mr. Austin?
No.
Mr. Rothenberg?
No, Your Honor.
Thank you, Your Honor.
He had to know
the jury would hate her.
He put her on the stand
to establish illegal entry.
He could care less
about her effect on the jury.
The search is still good.
There are 200 years
of precedent on our side.
And Mr. Rothenberg
would love to change that.
So we better start
researching our response
to his appeal now.
But we don't even
have a verdict yet.
We will.
My guess is two hours.
We'll get a conviction,
followed by an appeal.
On the sole count
of the indictment,
murder in the second degree...
how do you find?
We find the defendant guilty.
Move to continue bail
pending appeal, Judge.
A little quick
out of the gate,
aren't you, Counselor?
Your Honor, I object.
At least until the People
are served...
with a notice of appeal.
Consider yourself served.
(Judge Mooney)
Bail is continued.
Mrs. Keyes is getting
her money's won'th.
A 100-page brief.
And he doesn't cite
one case on point.
Private investigators
don't need warrants.
I've got Federal
and State cases
to prove it.
(Schiff)
You have five judges there,
Miss Kincaid.
Two of whom have to turn right
to see Thurgood Marshall.
The woman
killed her husband...
we've got the murder weapon,
a jury found her guilty.
But she's no longer on trial.
It's an appeal.
Now it's the lawyers' turn
to be tried.
Ben, nice brief.
I don't think
you missed a case.
You must be
pretty confident, Norman.
You don't start handing out
compliments unless you think
you're gonna win.
Well, the way I look at it,
you've got Marshall
and Bryant...
Jensen and Bloom
are with me...
and the swing vote is
definitely Justice Getman.
Norman, I don't mind
when you want
to expand the law.
I just wish when you do it,
you'd pick
a more deserving client.
My only concern
is the law.
I'll leave justice
to a more majestic authority.
(Rothenberg)
Unconscionable is too tame
a word, Your Honor.
The surreptitious search
of a womars bathroom...
is contrary to what Cardozo
called "the very essence...
of a scheme
of ordered liberty."
Justice demands
that the fruits
of that search...
namely the syringe,
be excluded.
(Justice Jensen)
Correct me if I'm wrong,
Professor...
but wasrt
the search conducted
by a private individual?
The Constitution
requires State action.
The perpetrator was...
a private investigator
licensed by the State.
In effect,
he was an agent
of the government.
(Justice Getman)
Only the Supreme Court
ruled...
a liquor license
didn't make a private club
an agent of the State.
(Rothenberg)
The private investigator's
license is distinguishable.
It empowers an individual...
to serve in
a law enforcement capacity...
an activity exclusively
reserved to the state.
And on the facts
in this case...
particularly,
the state has benefited...
from his illegal actions.
Just as we would not tolerate
governmental intrusion
into Mrs. Keyes' bathroom...
we should not tolerate
a thinly-veiled agent
of the government...
to violate what the Framers
deemed inviolable.
If we do, individuals who can
afford a fee of $20,000
for a private investigator...
would be the recipients
of a higher form of justice...
than those of us who cannot.
Thank you, Your Honors.
(Stone)
It's black letter law.
The Fourth Amendment
is designed to regulate...
governmental activity only...
and any private search,
no matter how egregious...
cannot be
constitutionally prohibited.
What if the search
was specifically designed...
to further
a governmental objective?
Any search that
uncovers evidence
later to be used at trial...
is furthering
governmental objectives.
So, Mr. Stone...
while I'm sitting unconscious
in my dentist's chair...
he decides to
search my briefcase,
and finds a gun.
You think it should be
admissible against me
in a murder trial?
The Supreme Court thinks so,
Your Honor.
(Justice Jensen)
And carried to the extreme...
if a police officer
doesn't have sufficient cause
to obtain a warrant...
he can get a private citizen
to do his dirty work.
Yes, but in this case,
it was the son
of the murdered victim...
who requested the search.
And if he couldn't
afford the services
of a private investigator...
this case never
would have come to trial.
Is that correct?
(Justice Bloom)
Of course it's correct.
Once again,
how much justice
can you afford?
If there is a double standard,
Your Honors...
we should eliminate it
not by lowering the justice
available to the wealthy...
but by raising
the quality of justice
for everyone.
Thank you, Mr. Stone.
Did the appellate victory
come as a surprise?
No, what surprises me
is that it has taken
this long...
for our legal system
to recognize
such a basic violation...
of an individual's
civil liberties.
It's a 3-2 decision.
We're gonna appeal.
And who's footing your bills?
The Court limited its holding
to the particular facts
of this case.
So we count our blessings
and retry the woman.
With what?
After the appeal,
we can't use the syringe.
It's tough to prove
an intentional murder
without a murder weapon.
(Stone)
What if it wasrt intentional?
What if we argue that
despite the evidence...
it was his overdose.
But that Mrs. Keyes
chose the menu...
she knew that he'd overeat
and shoot up afterwards?
A jury might buy
depraved indifference.
It's still murder two.
And then what?
Rothenberg hauls us uptown
for another appeal...
and another, and another.
We just walk away from this?
When the door slams enough
in your face...
eventually you kind of
get the idea they're not
letting you in.
It's obvious to me
that she's guilty.
The woman will not see
the inside of a prison.
We may have the law
on our side...
may have the facts
on our side...
but Danielle Keyes
has the money...
on her side.
And we just can't beat that.
Case is closed.
Danielle Keyes sold
the New York apartment
for $6 million.
She bought an estate
in the south of France.
Is there some point
when this actually
stops bothering you?
[Sighing]
No. There really isn't.
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.
(Danielle)
The Beckerman luncheors
been changed to a brunch.
Why am I just hearing
about this now?
They called yesterday,
after you left, madame.
So sorry.
Well, change hair
and nails to 9:30...
and wake Mr. Keyes.
Yes, madame.
[Clears throat]
[Knocking on door]
Mr. Keyes?
Mr. Keyes?
Mr. Keyes?
[Gasping]
I'm in great shape.
Come on, feel my legs.
Profaci, don't ask,
don't tell.
Stop.
[Laughing]
So...
how much is this 100-mile walk
gonna cost us?
It's only 25 cents a mile.
All right, put me down.
Hello, 27. Briscoe.
If you go the distance,
it's $25?
Right.
What is it,
for saving the whales?
Come on,
it's for handicapped kids.
Cough it up, come on.
No, I know the address,
but I need your name.
You owe me $10.
Some woman says Jonathan Keyes
was murdered last night...
in the penthouse
at Keyes Towers.
Probably a crank call.
Hey, it's a chance to see
how the other half lives.
Wait here, please.
Mr. Darby will speak with you.
We'd rather speak
with Mr. Keyes.
(Darby)
I'll handle it, Felix.
Garrett Darby,
the Keyes' family attorney.
Det. Logan, Det. Briscoe.
We're checking
on a call we received,
that Mr. Keyes was murdered.
Mr. Keyes passed away
last night,
but of natural causes.
There was no reason
for anyone to call you.
Where's the body?
In the guest suite.
A lawyer beats us to the body.
That's unique.
These people get a hangnail,
their first call is
to some pinstriped shyster.
I tried to wake him,
I called him by name...
I touched him. No response.
So I called Dr. Brackley.
Family history
of hypertension.
Looks like heart failure.
What was the occasion?
He attended a charity dinner,
and then the ballet.
Conveniently dressed
for his funeral.
We separated after the ballet.
I went to a party
at Bunny Chapmars,
Jon wanted to get home early.
(Logan)
Did he?
Did he what?
Get home early.
Why, I have no idea.
I got home around 4:00
and went straight to bed.
I didn't see him.
Separate rooms?
I have a sleep disorder.
The slightest sound
disturbs me.
And sometimes
we slept apart.
Any idea who it was
that called us and said
he was murdered?
Well, someone must have
informed the tabloids...
and they called you,
hoping for a headline.
"Police Investigate
Keyes' Death."
It's a pity
you had to oblige them.
Yes, Felix?
The men from
the Medical Examiner's Office
are here.
They want to remove Mr. Keyes.
What?
(Briscoe)
We called them, Mrs. Keyes.
We need
a determination of death.
You're not taking
my husband's body out of here.
Ma'am, without a signed
death certificate...
the M.E. Has to look
at the body.
Excuse me, Det. Logan.
I've spoken
to Commissioner Hastings...
made him aware
of this outrage.
You know the law, Counselor.
Yes, I know it.
And you know that
a restraining order
will prevent...
anyone from touching
that mars body.
I'm not having my husband
carved up in some morgue.
That's not our intention,
Mrs. Keyes.
I'm Lt. Van Buren.
Are you here
to stop this outrage?
You called these gentlemen?
Yes...
they're from
Ehrhardt's Funeral Home
on 88th.
Let them take the body.
The Medical Examiner's
people...
can do a review
at the funeral home.
We'll enjoin
against any autopsy.
Why don't we just see
if the M.E. Can
put this to rest...
with a non-invasive
examination?
I know this is
a terrible time for you,
Mrs. Keyes...
but I'm sure you want to know
why your husband died.
As long as he's
not cut open.
[Traffic humming]
Hey, what in the hell
was that?
What was what?
You come out here,
and you make us look
like a couple of idiots.
We did get a call
reporting a murder.
Well, I got calls, too.
Yeah, and without
talking to us
you pulled the plug.
The plug was pulled
before I walked in that door.
That body was headed
for injunction.
Get real, Lieutenant.
We couldn't handle it?
Is that what you're saying?
What you can't handle
is my rank in a skirt.
But this is neither the time
nor the place to discuss it.
Now, I want you to find out
what's really going on here...
before this thing
picks up more profile.
No bruises, abrasions,
nail marks, obvious fractures.
There's some indication
of water immersion. The skin
on his fingers was wrinkled.
And no way to tell
about any water in the lungs?
No, but it seems unlikely.
No petechial hemorrhages
or ecchymosis.
Okay, so that rules out
strangulation, suffocation.
What about poisoning?
We might find something
in nasal swabs or saliva.
I couldn't get
clean blood samples.
He was too polluted.
Polluted with what?
Formaldehyde.
The body was embalmed
before I arrived
at the funeral home.
The director said
family's orders.
Mrs. Keyes insists he goes
to a funeral home...
then gets him embalmed
before they get
a blood sample.
You gotta give me
a break on that.
That stinks.
Mike, what's wrong
with this picture?
He's wearing a cummerbund.
He was laid out in a vest.
They dressed him
after his death.
Could be for appearances.
Maybe he died on the toilet.
Maybe he died in the saddle
with somebody
other than Mrs. Keyes.
Marcela Di Portago.
We always flirted very openly.
The media loved it,
and Jonathan loved having
his picture in the paper.
Mrs. Keyes share that love?
Danielle is a silent partner
in this business.
She thought
talk of Kesey and me
would be good for trade.
Where did the good friends go
when the music stopped?
I left Dardenelle's on my own
around 2:00...
and he was left
with the latest set
of cheekbones.
She have a name?
They all have names...
but I never keep track
of who Kesey's
playing house with.
(Murphy)
Four years back I picked
him up at LaGuardia.
Got him across town
through the barricades
on Puerto Rican Parade Day...
and from then on,
I was his man.
It's been good.
I'll miss him.
Maybe Mrs. Keyes
will keep the limo.
She can keep the job
that goes with it.
She's not fun,
like Mr. Keyes?
Nasty piece of work.
Anyway, lucky for me,
Mr. K didn't spend
a whole lot of time with her.
Who did he
spend his time with?
Nowadays, just Cathy Rogers,
the cover girl.
What about her? Is she
just something to wear
on his arm for the night?
No, no, they were
getting regular.
He cared about her.
Did Mrs. Keyes care
that he cared?
Mrs. Keyes cared about
Mrs. Keyes, period.
(photographer)
Lovely, darling. All right,
a little more smile.
Perfect. I love it.
(photographer)
I'm not seeing your eyes.
Excuse me.
We're looking
for Cathy Rogers.
She's not here.
That's not
what her agency said.
Okay.
(photographer)
Perfect. Lovely.
The press have been driving
the poor thing crazy.
She came here to hide.
She's in no shape to work.
Cathy...
these men are from the police.
I'm Det. Briscoe.
This is Det. Logan.
She killed him.
You think that?
Did you call the police?
No. But when I heard
he was dead, I knew.
We happen to know
you were with him
last night.
If I tell you something,
how do I know you're not
going to sell it to the press?
My manager says,
as an exclusive,
my story's won'th a lot.
Maybe even a TV movie deal.
Well, it could also mean
obstruction and time
in a cell at Bedford.
Why would I withhold evidence?
I was crazy for Kesey.
I told everyone
he was the best lover
I ever had.
Living up to that
might be quite a challenge
for a guy his age.
Maybe last night,
he was reaching for the stars
and got a vapor lock?
There was nothing wrong
with him last night.
He was great, like always.
Afterwards, we took a shower
together.
He wanted more...
but I had an early shoot,
so I left.
Was he wearing a tux
when you tucked him in?
He was watching CNN
when I left.
When I got home, I called him,
so he'd know that I was okay.
We talked for a while,
then she came into his room...
so we had to hang up.
The whore is lying.
I didn't speak to him.
I can't even confirm
or deny that he had
a guest in his suite.
We didn't intrude
on each other's lives.
Well, the problem is,
you told us
he slept downstairs...
because of your
sleep disorder.
Well, I really didn't see
where my sex life
was any of your business.
Doesrt it bother you
that someone out there...
is describing your
late husband as the best lover
she's ever had?
Read the tabloids, Mr. Logan.
She's not the first.
Jonathan gave his last slut
a check for $25,000
for giving him rave reviews.
He had a large ego.
I accepted it
and I was well compensated.
Yeah, well, we still
have a problem about the tux.
Perhaps she was presenting him
with an award.
I'm sorry I'm late.
Traffic was bad.
Do I have to submit to this?
What is the law?
The law is that these men
have no business investigating
Mr. Keyes' death.
Here's a report from the
Medical Examiner's Office...
stating his opinion
that Jonathan Keyes
died of natural causes.
Felix will show you out.
My uncle died
in his bib overalls.
Before the relatives arrived,
he was
in a white linen suit...
with his hands
folded over a Panama hat.
There's nothing unusual
about dressing him.
Yeah, but none of your cousins
called the police
and said he was murdered.
Uncle Willie didn't have
24-hour-a-day surveillance
by the press.
We've got the girl du jour
who says that the wife
paid him a visit...
just before he died.
Who's also trying to sell
the movie rights.
Look, nine out of 10
of the little people
are saying the wife's guilty.
But it doesn't
build you a case.
Lennie, just took a call
for you.
The son, Lance Keyes,
wants a call back at his club.
Have fun.
He's with his lawyer.
Case closed?
Officially, you're on lunch.
We played squash last week.
He beat me three straight.
This was not natural causes.
The Medical Examiner
disagrees.
What, like those people
can't be bought?
Lance's father
was planning a divorce.
The pre-nuptial agreement
would have limited Danielle...
to the income
from a $1 million trust.
And she can't live on that?
Well, she could
live a lot better
on a third of his assets.
That comes to $36 million
she would get from his will...
not to mention the estate
in Southampton.
Where the grieving widow
is entertaining
200 of his closest mourners...
even as we speak.
Well,
you have to understand...
we're stuck
with the M.E.'s report
until we get something new.
Look, if it's
a matter of money...
(Webber)
Lance.
We just want to help you
any way we can.
Kids hate their stepmothers
on principle. Read Cinderella.
And young Lance here
has a legitimate motive,
his old mars dough.
I mean, anything that doesn't
go to the wife goes directly
into his bank account.
Listen,
funeral homes, no morgue,
embalmings, no autopsy...
somebody else is
calling our shots here.
You got a couple of
hundred million,
you get treated different
when you kick.
Come on.
When was the last time
someone reported a murder...
and CSU didn't work the room?
Well, I don't see anybody
giving us a warrant...
and I don't see me
blowing my pension
over this.
Walk on the wild side, Lennie.
If this guy is a victim...
we got every right
to get up close and personal
with the crime scene.
[Sighing]
Well, let's hope the weather
holds in the Hamptons.
I think I really must call
Mrs. Keyes. I'm sure
she would not allow this.
Remember Mr. Keyes?
You think he'd allow it?
You have to polish
all this stuff?
A different specialist
for every body part.
I'm glad I'm not rich enough
to know how sick I am.
Different doctors,
but all from
the same pharmacy.
[Logan exclaims]
Someone didn't clean
too well.
The brown spot, dried blood?
Injection, maybe.
Look at this.
That look like the top
of a medicine bottle to you?
Boy, everything ends up
in the dust ruffle.
What's that,
the luck of the Irish?
Yeah, maybe.
Lab report on the cotton.
The brown spot is blood.
It matches Keyes' type...
minute traces
of rubbing alcohol
and insulin.
That's wonderful, Mike.
Let me ask you this.
Either one of you
ever hear of a warrant?
It's the victim's apartment.
You don't need a warrant
for a crime scene.
It's also the grieving
widow's apartment, which
may make your precious...
cotton ball
inadmissible against her.
Well, at least now we know
what we're looking for.
People die
from too much insulin.
Ever think the guy
was diabetic?
Okay, so we get a warrant
for the pharmacy's records.
Any warrant gets us a call
from downtown.
Forget the judge.
We'll talk to the housekeeper.
She ought to know
if there's a diabetic
in the family.
I certainly would have known
if anyone has diabetes.
How can you be so sure?
Because I make
all the doctor's
appointments...
and I know everything
that goes on in their lives.
You mean, like, why Mr. Keyes
got up at 4:00 in the morning
and put on a tux?
Look, you want to tell us
once more how he really looked
when you found him?
Why should I?
I mean, people tell you
something, you don't pay
any attention, anyhow.
Mike, don't you think
it's funny...
that we find
a stray cotton ball
in the bedroom?
Makes me wonder
who made that call.
It was you, wasrt it?
I don't know
what you're talking about.
All right, look, we're gonna
finish this conversation
at the precinct.
I have the right
to make a call.
(Helga)
Well, Mrs. Keyes did not...
want him found nude, see.
And with the room, of course,
it was obvious...
you know,
what had been going on.
So you cleaned up
before you called us.
Yes.
I made the bed...
and I dressed him.
Now, why did you do that?
Because I wanted
to find out...
if there was
any indication of murder.
Besides,
Mr. Keyes always told me...
I had to obey Mrs. Keyes.
[Laughs]
Of course, he knew how I felt.
Well, if you didn't like her,
why didn't you quit?
We go back a long time...
to his first marriage.
And I raised their son,
Lance...
and when his mother died...
I was needed.
[Chuckles]
I stayed.
[Knocking on door]
[Door opening]
Lance Keyes and his attorney
are here.
I guess now we know
who Helga called.
What do you mean,
you investigated on your own?
Well, things
were going slowly...
and Lance thought
it would be prudent...
to hire his own investigator.
Somebody who wouldn't be
intimidated by my stepmother.
He found this bag
in Mrs. Keyes' bathroom.
And inside the bag
he found a smaller bag...
which contained...
We had it tested.
It's coated with insulin.
That's how she killed him.
How do we know
it wasrt your father's?
Mr. Keyes wasrt allowed
into her bedroom...
much less into her bathroom.
(Webber)
We also obtained...
payment records
from Bergmars Pharmacy.
Two weeks ago,
Mrs. Keyes purchased...
insulin and syringes.
This is all very convenient.
How can I be sure
someone didn't plant all this?
The syringe
is covered with her prints.
You can test it yourself,
if you like.
She was the only one home
that night.
Excuse us a minute.
[Sighing]
If they were all this easy...
I don't like being
hand delivered evidence
by an interested party.
Hey, if our hands
werert tied,
we would have found it.
You've got insulin
on the needle,
in her bathroom...
her prints, the girlfriend
puts her at the scene.
You got probable cause
for arrest.
But nothing links it
to the mars death.
Remember the M.E.'s report.
(Briscoe)
Natural causes.
Because the M.E.'s hands
were tied, they couldn't
touch the body, remember?
As long as we're stuck
with that report,
we don't have a murder.
Oh, come on.
You're not saying
we're gonna back off?
No. I'm gonna call the D.A.,
and we're gonna dig Keyes up.
Lieutenant, I don't care
who called you.
Either you investigate
a case properly or you
consider an early retirement.
Hold it.
Everything I did
was by the book,
in capital letters.
By preventing an autopsy?
Read the file.
The doctor on the scene said
he died of natural causes.
And it never
occurred to you...
that he might have
had a personal stake
in that diagnosis?
Remind me never to take a trip
with you in the back seat,
Counselor.
It's an easy call now,
in this office.
(Schiff)
I'm not unaware of your
predicament, Lieutenant.
Twenty-six calls
this morning...
including seven congressmen
and three judges.
People are taking
"rest in peace"
very seriously.
But it's got nothing to do
with the facts, Adam.
You both know it...
and you're going to
let that influence you?
No, but it may influence
the poor bastard
on the bench...
who's gotta decide
whether to start
digging up dead bodies.
Mrs. Keyes is in your office
with her attorney,
Prof. Norman Rothenberg.
(Schiff)
There you go.
The rich are different.
They get better lawyers.
Damn it, Ben,
what happened to civility?
The mars dead and buried.
We'd just like to confirm
that that ceremony
wasrt premature.
What, is business so slow
you had to start
manufacturing crimes?
Well, she certainly
had motive.
In a few years, Ms. Kincaid,
hopefully...
you will be able to judge
without being judgmental.
(Stone)
An insulin-encrusted
syringe...
with your client's
fingerprints on it,
found in her bathroom.
That's about as close
to a smoking gun
as you can get.
If there were evidence
that the cause of death
was insulin poisoning, yes.
The chicken or the egg,
Norman. That's why
we applied for an exhumation.
And you expect a judge
to raise the dead on a hunch?
A cotton ball
with traces of insulin
found in his room.
That's hardly a jump.
Please don't insult me.
You know the cotton
was illegally obtained.
A judge can't
ever consider that.
It was the victim's apartment.
It was a condo, Ben,
held in tenancy
by the entirety.
At Mr. Keyes' death...
the property
moved to Mrs. Keyes
as a matter of law.
So you can
go around in circles
as much as you want...
Ben, it still isn't going
to get you anywhere.
[Sighs]
I'll let a judge decide.
And when he does, a simple...
"I'm sorry"
won't be sufficient.
Is that a threat, Norman?
No.
It's a promise.
[Sighing]
Somehow, I don't feel
that sorry for her.
Let's get enough back-up
so that a judge has to agree.
Danielle was
to the manor born.
Only they just
put a third mortgage
on the manor.
Jonathars bank account
helped put the shine back
in her crown.
Her granddaddy was
some sort of a duke.
Did Mr. Keyes know that
his wife only married him
for the money?
Well, Jonathars interests
were more libidinous.
You should have seen Danny
10 years ago.
She looked a little
like Cathy Rogers.
Supermodel.
Can anyone blame him?
I'm really only interested in
whether his wife blamed him.
Well, in their circles,
these kind of flings
are expected.
But what's good for the gander
is not always
good for the goose.
Mrs. Keyes
had a relationship, too?
Jonathars ego
couldn't take it.
Who was the boyfriend?
Well, to put it delicately...
Marcela Di Portago...
was more
than a business partner.
(Marcela)
Havert you heard
it's chic to be gay?
And if she was anything,
Danielle was chic.
It lasted a few months.
So it wasrt serious?
Look, Danielle was curious.
She needed something
to talk about in the sauna.
It was nothing.
Well, unfortunately,
it was to Jonathan.
Why, because he didn't
get to watch?
My dalliance with Danielle
may have been touted...
as grounds
for the upcoming divorce.
But it wasrt the reason.
Well, what was?
My guess is, poor Kesey
finally got tired
of using the guest room.
You mean he wasrt there
out of choice?
More like out of desperation.
Playing the male
rogue hormones was his way
of trying to excite her.
So you're saying
that he loved her?
Of course it was useless.
There was a reason
why Cosmo calls her
the "Ice Princess."
In 10 years, I saw her
get excited only once...
when Lutece
ran out of Chateau d'Yquem.
Expensive way
to wash down your medicine.
Did she use insulin?
Supplied more than generously
by Whit Ferguson.
The writer?
Of course, I am myopic...
allergic, xenophobic...
and some of my closer friends
would swear on a stack...
that I'm schizophrenic.
Do you think I'm paranoid?
I'm really only interested
in the diabetes, sir.
Shame.
It's the least fun of all.
The price of overindulgence
and my grandfather's curse.
For leaving Charleston,
you understand.
And you're required
to inject insulin?
Sins of the fathers.
What is it again that you do?
I'm an assistant
district attorney.
Face like that,
you should be sipping Cristal
in the Bois de Boulogne...
and not black coffee
at Irving's
on Court Street.
[Chuckling]
Amazing what the Russians
can do with a potato.
So, it's really
a terrific scandal,
don't you think?
I always knew she had
murder in her eyes.
And you got her the insulin?
You don't need
a prescription, my dear.
Well, you do for syringes.
True.
To tell the truth,
I always thought
a pearl-handled derringer...
in a beaded purse
was more her style.
As far as I knew,
the insulin was purely
for the war on cellulite.
She injected herself
in order to lose weight?
Some people will do anything
to fit into a size 3.
The Keyes were convinced
that insulin would burn off
all those creme brulees.
You mean Jonathan Keyes
injected himself, too?
Oh, Johnny boy
didn't have the gumption
to stick a needle in himself.
No, he just closed his eyes
and let Danny
have all the fun.
[Chuckling]
When was the last time
you gave her a syringe?
I couldn't be bothered.
I instructed my pharmacist
that from time to time...
Mrs. Keyes would be picking up
my prescription for me.
These people
never heard of exercise?
Why sweat
when you can shoot up?
I thought insulin
induced coma,
not heart failure.
Well, Keyes' physician
said hypertension
ran in the family.
And M.E. Told me...
that an unwarranted amount
of insulin could definitely
cause cardiac problems.
We still can't prove
Mrs. Keyes did
the injecting.
Whit Ferguson signed
an affidavit...
saying that Mr. Keyes
never injected himself.
Now, Ben, they found
a used syringe in her bathroom
with her prints on it.
I think that's sufficient
to warrant an autopsy, even if
I am a little prejudiced.
You are?
Yeah.
Well, let's hope Judge Mooney
shares your character flaw.
I've reviewed the State's
application and the affidavits
filed therewith...
and I have to say
they make a hell
of a compelling argument.
Can I assume...
by your virtual lack
of answering papers,
Professor...
that you're letting this
go unopposed?
No, on the contrary,
Your Honor.
There's no way that
mere documentation
can communicate...
the enormity
of our opposition.
This is a factual finding,
Norman, it's not a melodrama.
And have we reached the point
in jurisprudence where...
humanity and compassion
have been totally discarded?
Please, Mr. Rothenberg.
I have enough trouble
breathing the air outside.
I assume Mrs. Keyes
wishes to make a statement.
She does, Your Honor.
Take your time, Danielle.
This is my husband
we're discussing,
not some corpse.
For 10 years, we were happy.
Normars told me what happens
during an autopsy.
I don't know what you have
against us, Mr. Stone.
I assume it must be the money.
I doubt that you'd go to
this trouble for anyone else.
You just don't understand.
I loved him.
Mrs. Keyes, how do you explain
the used hypodermic needle...
with your fingerprints on it,
found in your bathroom?
No, I always disposed
of the needles
when I was through.
I haven't injected myself
for several months.
The pharmacy's records
indicate...
that you purchased insulin
within two weeks
of your husband's death.
Well, yes,
but that was for Jonathan.
I wanted him to stop.
I knew that
it wasrt healthy...
but he was
a chronic overeater...
and he injected himself
every time he had a big meal.
Mr. Ferguson stated
in his affidavit...
that your husband was afraid
of injecting himself.
At first, but when I refused
to inject him...
his vanity overcame his fear.
Then, Mrs. Keyes,
what were your fingerprints
doing on that syringe?
I have no idea.
The attending physician
certified that
the cause of death...
was cardiac arrest.
Which is consistent
with an insulin overdose,
Your Honor.
If it was,
somebody somewhere
is liable for something.
The body will be exhumed
with all due speed.
And, Mrs. Keyes...
if the autopsy comes up
negative...
you have my deepest apologies.
Thank you.
Tissue samples were removed
from the coronal mastoid area
and right frontal lobes.
We run an RIA and...
This is his brain.
[Beeping]
[Woman chattering
on PA system]
This is his brain on drugs.
What kind of drugs?
Your Mr. Keyes
was swimming in insulin.
Surprise, surprise.
It's enough for an arrest.
Not exactly
the Staten Island Ferry.
You kidding?
These people could probably
buy Staten Island.
Not now, Popeye.
Couldrt this wait
until tomorrow?
I told your office
that Mrs. Keyes would
surrender voluntarily.
Danielle Keyes, you're
under arrest for the murder
of Jonathan Keyes.
You have the right to remain...
Come on, Detective.
Don't you think I've already
advised Mrs. Keyes...
on everything she needs
to know? And the handcuffs
certainly won't be necessary.
Counselor,
you've heard of pro forma.
You have the right
to remain silent.
(Quinn)
It was in Mrs. Keyes'
bathroom, under the sink.
There was a bag,
like a gym bag.
I opened it, and there was
a small cloth purse inside.
And in that purse?
There was a syringe
and an empty vial.
Is this the syringe,
Mr. Quinn?
Yes.
Offered as evidence.
Call it People's 14.
And what did you do
with the syringe?
I took it
to the Tyler-Hampton
Laboratory.
They tested it...
and they told me
there were still traces
of insulin on the needle.
Thank you.
Who was it who first
suggested that you search
Mrs. Keyes' bathroom?
Their son, Lance Keyes.
And did he specifically
ask you to search the cabinet
beneath the sink?
Yes.
And when you found
the gym bag, did you
open it immediately?
No, it was locked.
Lance told me
to rip it open.
Let me back up
a few steps here,
Mr. Quinn.
On the day of your search,
did Lance actually let you
into the apartment?
No, he didn't have a key.
The housekeeper let us in.
Did you have a warrant, sir?
I've been off the police force
10 years now.
I'm a private citizen.
I don't need a warrant.
It was a good search.
It sounds like a good burglary
to me.
Objection.
I object, too,
Your Honor...
and I renew my motion
to suppress the syringe...
as it was obtained
by an illegal search.
You're both overruled.
By the way, Mr. Quinn...
how much did Lance Keyes
pay you for your services?
$20,000.
It was a little after 8:30...
I found him
on the bathroom floor, naked.
Can you explain why
the dead body was...
fully clothed
when the police arrived?
Well, Mrs. Keyes asked me
to clean him up.
It wouldn't look right,
she said, considering.
When you found
Mr. Keyes on the floor...
was there a syringe
or any other drug
paraphernalia in the area?
No.
One last question, Miss Holtz.
Why did you call the police
and tell them that Mr. Keyes
had been murdered?
Because I know Mrs. Keyes.
Thank you.
Your Honor, my associate,
Gerald Austin...
will be conducting
the remainder of the trial.
Any objections, Mr. Stone?
No, Your Honor.
To the best of your memory...
what did you serve
to Mr. Keyes
for dinner that night?
(Helga)
Veal roast, mashed potatoes,
and...
oh, yes, a white Bordeaux.
What about dessert?
German chocolate cake.
And a sauterne, yeah.
Did Mr. Keyes have
more than one slice of cake?
He had two.
Sounds to me
like you're trying
to fatten him up.
Well, I didn't pick the menu,
you know. Mrs. Keyes did.
Yet you served it...
knowing full well
that it would surely
cause him...
to inject himself
with a potentially
dangerous drug?
I would never...
never hurt Mr. Keyes.
(Stone)
$400 an hour is a lot to pay
for the second string.
I assume you're giving
Mrs. Keyes a discount.
Well, the trial
is spring training, Ben.
Season doesn't start
until I'm pitching
to a room full of judges.
Norman, even you need
grounds for appeal.
And on the record so far,
it won't be easy.
In 20 years, DiMaggio
never had to dive for a ball.
They all came right to him.
It's funny how that works.
That went right past me.
He's gonna throw
this whole thing
right in the tank.
He thinks he already
has grounds for appeal.
He's giving his assistant
a little experience...
while he gets a head start
on his brief.
But appeal with what?
I was at his apartment
until 2:00 in the morning...
and then his driver, Murphy,
took me home.
Were you alone
in the apartment?
No.
The lights were on
in the master bedroom.
Mrs. Keyes was upstairs.
When you arrived home,
what did you do?
I called Jonathan.
He wanted to be sure
I got home okay.
We talked for about
five minutes...
and then he said
he had to go.
Why is that?
Jonathan said that
she wanted to talk to him.
You mean Mrs. Keyes?
Yes.
Thank you.
Did you actually
hear Mrs. Keyes...
while you were
on the phone?
He was talking to a woman.
Helga was gone.
Who else would be
in his apartment
at that hour?
That's right, what would
possibly make me think...
that a woman
other than his wife
would enter his bedroom?
(Danielle)
Yes, the gym bag was mine...
but I have no idea
how it got into
my bathroom cabinet.
What about the cloth purse?
Yes, that was mine, too,
but I haven't used it
for months.
I keep it at our house
in Southampton.
When you found out
that your husband
had passed away...
what did you do?
I telephoned Lance.
And where was he
at the time?
At our house in Southampton.
(Austin)
The same place
you kept the cloth purse.
Does that suggest anything
to you, Mrs. Keyes?
Objection.
Withdrawn.
Thank you, Mrs. Keyes.
One more question,
Mrs. Keyes.
Did you ever
give Lance permission
to go into your bathroom?
Of course not.
I never gave him permission
to enter my apartment.
Your witness.
Mrs. Keyes,
why does your husband
sleep in the guest room?
I assume he had company.
And does he often
have company?
We were married, Mr. Stone.
What we did, where we did it,
with whom it was done
was irrelevant.
I loved Jonathan
and he loved me.
But don't you get angry...
when you know
your husband is sleeping
with another woman...
in your own apartment?
I don't expect you
to understand.
Jonathan and I were different.
Ah, yes, it would seem so...
because most people,
when they want
to lose weight...
they eat less.
And most wives, they care...
when their husbands
have affairs,
and most wives...
when they find...
their husband dead
on the bathroom floor...
they call the police...
before they dress him up
in a tuxedo. Isn't that right?
I am not most people,
Mr. Stone.
But if your husband
divorced you, you would be,
wouldn't you?
And then you'd be
just like everybody else.
And you couldn't stand that,
could you?
Mr. Stone.
Any objections, Mr. Austin?
No.
Mr. Rothenberg?
No, Your Honor.
Thank you, Your Honor.
He had to know
the jury would hate her.
He put her on the stand
to establish illegal entry.
He could care less
about her effect on the jury.
The search is still good.
There are 200 years
of precedent on our side.
And Mr. Rothenberg
would love to change that.
So we better start
researching our response
to his appeal now.
But we don't even
have a verdict yet.
We will.
My guess is two hours.
We'll get a conviction,
followed by an appeal.
On the sole count
of the indictment,
murder in the second degree...
how do you find?
We find the defendant guilty.
Move to continue bail
pending appeal, Judge.
A little quick
out of the gate,
aren't you, Counselor?
Your Honor, I object.
At least until the People
are served...
with a notice of appeal.
Consider yourself served.
(Judge Mooney)
Bail is continued.
Mrs. Keyes is getting
her money's won'th.
A 100-page brief.
And he doesn't cite
one case on point.
Private investigators
don't need warrants.
I've got Federal
and State cases
to prove it.
(Schiff)
You have five judges there,
Miss Kincaid.
Two of whom have to turn right
to see Thurgood Marshall.
The woman
killed her husband...
we've got the murder weapon,
a jury found her guilty.
But she's no longer on trial.
It's an appeal.
Now it's the lawyers' turn
to be tried.
Ben, nice brief.
I don't think
you missed a case.
You must be
pretty confident, Norman.
You don't start handing out
compliments unless you think
you're gonna win.
Well, the way I look at it,
you've got Marshall
and Bryant...
Jensen and Bloom
are with me...
and the swing vote is
definitely Justice Getman.
Norman, I don't mind
when you want
to expand the law.
I just wish when you do it,
you'd pick
a more deserving client.
My only concern
is the law.
I'll leave justice
to a more majestic authority.
(Rothenberg)
Unconscionable is too tame
a word, Your Honor.
The surreptitious search
of a womars bathroom...
is contrary to what Cardozo
called "the very essence...
of a scheme
of ordered liberty."
Justice demands
that the fruits
of that search...
namely the syringe,
be excluded.
(Justice Jensen)
Correct me if I'm wrong,
Professor...
but wasrt
the search conducted
by a private individual?
The Constitution
requires State action.
The perpetrator was...
a private investigator
licensed by the State.
In effect,
he was an agent
of the government.
(Justice Getman)
Only the Supreme Court
ruled...
a liquor license
didn't make a private club
an agent of the State.
(Rothenberg)
The private investigator's
license is distinguishable.
It empowers an individual...
to serve in
a law enforcement capacity...
an activity exclusively
reserved to the state.
And on the facts
in this case...
particularly,
the state has benefited...
from his illegal actions.
Just as we would not tolerate
governmental intrusion
into Mrs. Keyes' bathroom...
we should not tolerate
a thinly-veiled agent
of the government...
to violate what the Framers
deemed inviolable.
If we do, individuals who can
afford a fee of $20,000
for a private investigator...
would be the recipients
of a higher form of justice...
than those of us who cannot.
Thank you, Your Honors.
(Stone)
It's black letter law.
The Fourth Amendment
is designed to regulate...
governmental activity only...
and any private search,
no matter how egregious...
cannot be
constitutionally prohibited.
What if the search
was specifically designed...
to further
a governmental objective?
Any search that
uncovers evidence
later to be used at trial...
is furthering
governmental objectives.
So, Mr. Stone...
while I'm sitting unconscious
in my dentist's chair...
he decides to
search my briefcase,
and finds a gun.
You think it should be
admissible against me
in a murder trial?
The Supreme Court thinks so,
Your Honor.
(Justice Jensen)
And carried to the extreme...
if a police officer
doesn't have sufficient cause
to obtain a warrant...
he can get a private citizen
to do his dirty work.
Yes, but in this case,
it was the son
of the murdered victim...
who requested the search.
And if he couldn't
afford the services
of a private investigator...
this case never
would have come to trial.
Is that correct?
(Justice Bloom)
Of course it's correct.
Once again,
how much justice
can you afford?
If there is a double standard,
Your Honors...
we should eliminate it
not by lowering the justice
available to the wealthy...
but by raising
the quality of justice
for everyone.
Thank you, Mr. Stone.
Did the appellate victory
come as a surprise?
No, what surprises me
is that it has taken
this long...
for our legal system
to recognize
such a basic violation...
of an individual's
civil liberties.
It's a 3-2 decision.
We're gonna appeal.
And who's footing your bills?
The Court limited its holding
to the particular facts
of this case.
So we count our blessings
and retry the woman.
With what?
After the appeal,
we can't use the syringe.
It's tough to prove
an intentional murder
without a murder weapon.
(Stone)
What if it wasrt intentional?
What if we argue that
despite the evidence...
it was his overdose.
But that Mrs. Keyes
chose the menu...
she knew that he'd overeat
and shoot up afterwards?
A jury might buy
depraved indifference.
It's still murder two.
And then what?
Rothenberg hauls us uptown
for another appeal...
and another, and another.
We just walk away from this?
When the door slams enough
in your face...
eventually you kind of
get the idea they're not
letting you in.
It's obvious to me
that she's guilty.
The woman will not see
the inside of a prison.
We may have the law
on our side...
may have the facts
on our side...
but Danielle Keyes
has the money...
on her side.
And we just can't beat that.
Case is closed.
Danielle Keyes sold
the New York apartment
for $6 million.
She bought an estate
in the south of France.
Is there some point
when this actually
stops bothering you?
[Sighing]
No. There really isn't.