Law & Order: Criminal Intent (2001–2011): Season 1, Episode 18 - Law & Order: Criminal Intent - full transcript

In New York City's war on crime

the worst criminal
offenders are pursued

by the detectives of
the Major Case Squad.

These are their stories.

You couldn't wait 10 minutes to
sell this place out from under me.

She's barely in her grave.

I didn't sell the house.
Mom did last fall.

What?! Who's going
to buy this dump?

Some developers
putting up offices.

She got a good
deal. This is perfect.

You know, you are really
something, you know that?



You never come out to see her,

and you're going to
stand there and complain

that she sold the house so she
could have something to live on?

I'm upset, okay? I
just buried my mother.

What is it, Ricky? Kicked
out of your apartment again?

(sighs)

It's okay, Ricky.

They're not taking possession
until the end of the week.

You can stay until then.

The phone's off, but
the power's still on.

I need to find contact information
for one of your members...

Jay Lippman. He's a
mechanical engineer.

No, "Lipp," with a "P."
Two "P"s... "Lippman."

You have to book the travel
time as well as the appointment.



I don't want to get there early,

and I don't want
to get there late.

And I don't know anyone
named Rick Morrissey.

If he calls again,
get rid of him.

I got some phone calls today.

Who from?

Whoever it was just hung up.

Four times.

I don't know what you
expect me to say, Anne.

Telemarketers do that.

Not when you pick up, Jay.

I'm not going through this.

You're wrong.

Don't the kids know
what time dinner is?

(phone ringing)

Hello?

Oh, sure. How have you been?

That's not going to
be possible right now.

Yes. All right.

I have to go out for a minute.

That's just great.

20 years I don't hear from you,
that's the way it's going to stay.

We got a problem, Jay.

Sorry, I don't know you, okay?
That's the way it's going to stay.

Jay, we have to dig it up.

(theme music playing)

It's clay.

She was buried
deep, where it's cool.

That explains why there's
only partial decomposition.

That, plus the fact it looks
like the tarp was sealed.

There's no telling how
long she was in the ground.

It's not more than 20 years.

That's a black denim miniskirt
from the London Limited.

They only made them
the one season... 1983.

You wore one of these?

I looked good in it, too.

Her fingers are in okay shape.

We might be able
to get prints off them.

I'll need your men to canvass
those buildings over there.

Somebody took the
trouble to move her.

You got to wonder why they picked
such a public place to dump her.

The question is why
they took the trouble at all.

- (knocking)
- What?

That girl in the Bronx River. I
told you, dump it back to Homicide.

It's one of yours.
Alyssa Cooney.

You sure? It's a tentative ID.

She had a previous
injury. A broken leg.

Right. The body had a
broken femur and clavicle.

Alyssa had a skiing
accident when she was 10.

That's her. Give it
back to Homicide.

Eames: She was
tortured, Captain.

She had rope burns on her wrists
and ankles, her jaw was broken,

she was penetrated with foreign
objects, she was suffocated...

The case is too old.
You'll never break it.

Killers like this, they
don't stop after one murder.

Especially one
they got away with.

(soft sigh)

(drawer slides, bangs)

We had one suspect. Her
boyfriend, Mike Heskey.

Last I heard, he lived
in Queens, off Astoria.

Look, I told the police I don't
know how many times what I knew.

The last time I saw her we were in
a bar on Canal. She was mad at me.

Because you hit her.

People in your
dorm saw you hit her.

Yes, that did happen. I was studying
for midterms, and she wanted to party.

And I'm not making any excuses.

It sure sounds
like excuses to me.

I've never hit another woman
again in my life. You ask anyone.

What was the fight about?
The one in the dorm?

She was bored with me.

She was shopping around?

She had just moved to the city.

She was like someone
who'd been let out of a cage.

Anything wild, that's...

You again. I told
you so many times,

I don't know what
happened to Alyssa.

We found the body.

You found her?

We found her where you put her.

After you tied her up,
tortured her, and killed her.

God as my witness,
I did no such thing.

It's all there.

Oh, God.

There...

and there...

and there... God help me.

(bangs table)

There... God help me.

There!

What if I drove her into this?

She was so mad at me.

Why didn't I stop her?

(door slams)

He didn't do it, did he?

Send him home.

Been a long time since
I've been out of the city.

I got that cough...
That downtown cough.

I thought I'd go see
my ex in Poughkeepsie.

$10,000 can take you
a little farther than that.

No, not just stop there.

She and I always talked
about going to Maine.

So I'm thinking with this money,

this could be a
second chance for us.

You're looking
to relocate. Good.

It's just that I hate
to leave my sister.

You mention any of
this to her? Any of this?

I didn't want her involved.

Good.

I want to see you
get on that bus, Ricky.

I examined a tissue
sample from your corpse.

If there's something
in the ground water,

the tissue would
pick it up, too.

Transdichloroethylene.
Xylenes. Ethylbenzene.

Industrial waste leakage.

My first thought was the neighborhood
around the Fresh Kills landfill.

It's a long drive from Staten Island
to the Bronx with a body in the trunk.

With all the spot
checks since 9/11...

There are private
dumps in the Bronx.

Places where construction companies
unload waste, no questions asked.

The smell, some
days, just awful.

We tried to shut them down, but
City Hall doesn't care about the Bronx.

Seems so. We've been to six
other dumps in the Bronx already.

Is there any other construction
starting up, or maybe a swimming pool?

A swimming pool,
that would be nice.

The heat in the
summer here will kill you.

Oh... there's an office complex.

They're building offices? Where?

Juniper and Second.

Some geniuses think
companies want to move

out of downtown to the
Bronx because it's safer,

because of the tragedy.
I'll believe it when I see it.

Thank you very much.

Woman: They bought
these houses here.

The Marinos', the Dougans',

and then Sue Morrissey's
across the street.

She just died, God rest her
soul, a week ago Monday.

Is anyone else living there?

No. Thank you for
your time, Mrs. Gambi.

You won't find anybody.
Everybody's gone but me.

I'll go around back, see if there's
a way in through the garage.

(chimes ring softly)

(bangs)

Down here!

You find something?

Yeah, it's a grave.

There was a body in my
parents' house that whole time?

That's unbelievable.

20 years ago, I was living
there with my mother and father.

Did you know a girl
named Alyssa Cooney?

I didn't.

I don't know if my parents
did. They're both dead now.

Did anyone else live there in 1983?
Maybe your parents had tenants.

- No, no.
- (Cell phone ringing)

Excuse me.

How about the neighbors? Any
of them have access to the house?

I remember that Easter, Mom and
Dad took me to Florida for a week.

Mrs. Gambi across the street,
she was watering the plants.

She live with any other
family? Her husband.

Maybe someone broke
in while we were gone.

Mrs. Colton, do you
know a Richard Morrissey?

Oh, Ricky's my brother. Why?

His fingerprints were
found at your parents' home.

They were recent.

Yes, of course. He
was there for the wake.

When we asked...

who else lived in the house,
you didn't mention him.

You said, "20 years ago."
He was living in the city then.

He was at Hudson University.
That's why I got confused.

He's been in trouble before.
It came up with his prints.

Mostly drug-related offenses.

That was just stupid mistakes.

That's nothing like what
you're talking about now.

Anyway, he's been to clinics.
He's cleaned up his drug problems.

We still need to talk to him.

He changes addresses a lot.

Well, how about those
drug clinics you mentioned?

Yeah, that clinic
should update its files.

Morrissey hasn't lived
here in almost a year.

Guy was a deadbeat.

Landlord had to get a
court order to lock him out.

Has he been back since?
Why would he come back?

To get the stuff you kept
when you locked him out.

Next time, when
you're going to lie,

don't answer a
question with a question.

We got rid of his
stuff. We sold it.

You would have needed
a court order for that, too.

Can we see it?

Look, one more thing.

If you're going to tell a lie,
make sure you can back it up.

I think I know what
happened here.

Me, too. Morrissey
came back for his stuff,

he gave you some money,
and you didn't tell the landlord.

Which, by the way, is
none of our business.

Okay, okay. He came
back a couple of days ago,

paid what he
owed... three grand.

Three grand, cash? Yeah.
He looked pretty flush.

You get a current
address out of him?

No. All he took was his wedding
pictures, left the rest of his junk.

Said he was going
out of town for a while.

- He has a wife?
- Ex-wife.

In Poughkeepsie. Maureen.

That woman ran circles
around the poor guy.

I haven't seen Ricky in years.
Good riddance to bad rubbish.

We heard he was heading this way
with your wedding album under his arm.

Oh, please. You're
making me want to cry.

I'm starting to see why the
two of you didn't work out.

It's too bad he came
into all that money.

(car horn blares)

So I got lousy
taste. I got to go.

Ricky's luck
was a little better.

Kind of money he's got now,
he should be able to step up

from a burned-out housewife
with a faux mink jacket.

That shows how much you know.

This is sable.
$2,400 at Draper's.

Where'd you come by
it, off the back of a truck?

Fine.

Ricky was here. He
bought this for me.

Goren: How'd you
get him to do that?

Did you get him drunk?

Is that what you did?

You got him drunk, and
you took all his money.

He owed me.

All the time we were married,

me working like a dog waiting
tables, he was putting it up his arm.

How much did you take him for?

Six grand and change.

I dumped him back
at the bus station.

Ricky: Jay, hey! Over here.

I was surprised
to hear from you.

I know, I know.

It's just the main
plan fell through.

You want to grab a beer?

What I've been through, I got
to be honest, I could use a beer.

You can't stay in the
city. We talked about this.

Yeah, but I'm thinking,
where am I going to go?

I don't know anybody
anyplace else.

Here, at least I got my sister.

I mean it, Rick. Okay.

The thing is, if you can
lend me a couple of bucks?

Not a whole other
10, just to tide me over.

Call me at the office on Friday.

Use a pay phone.

What's this?

Junk Morrissey left
behind at his apartment.

Newsletter from the Hudson
University Chess Club, 1983.

Morrissey's chess
record. He's 0 for 12.

Deakins: Receipts
from a blood bank.

Eames: He didn't make
10 grand selling plasma.

I want it covered anyway.

This is from his sister...

"Since you always hang up on
me and don't come home anymore,

so here I am writing you.

I just wanted to say I
don't blame you, Ricky.

It wasn't your fault.

Please, please, please call me."

This is March, 1983.

That's a month before
Alyssa Cooney disappeared.

Morrissey was the only
son... "Mom's favorite,"

until something happened.

Something that kept
him from going home.

Too bad that something
wasn't a truck running him over.

Surveillance just
called. We got a winner.

You just can't stay. There
were cops here looking for you.

Did you know that?

Cops? It's nothing.

Look, Sally, it's
just till Friday.

You won't even know.
I'll sleep in the rec room.

- Ricky...
- (Doorbell rings)

(sharp whisper) Sally...!

Wait.

Aw, jeez.

Rick Morrissey?
You're under arrest.

- Ricky: No! Sally!
- Don't hurt him!

I didn't do anything. I
don't know anything.

- This is a mistake.
- Eames: Story of your life, Ricky.

I don't know. I don't
know if I need a lawyer.

What do you guys think?

That's up to you. We can't
tell you one way or the other.

Yeah, but if I get one, then
you guys are going to think...

Oh, man, maybe I better.

He really can't
make up his mind.

I know it's important,
but I... don't know.

While you're thinking about it,

why don't we talk about this
body in your mother's basement?

There's no body in my
mom's basement. That's crazy.

There's no body anymore
because you moved it.

No. No.

Hey, I just thought, can I talk to
my sister about this lawyer thing?

No. Did you ever borrow her car?

She lent you 10 grand.
Maybe she lent you her car.

No. That money, see,

I got that from selling
my mom's house.

That's the story
you're going with?

Yeah. My mom wanted me to
have that house. She cared about me.

You loved your mother.
You depended on her.

Yeah, for sure. She was my mom.

You wouldn't do anything to
disrespect her, disrespect her house?

No.

Like burying a body
in the basement?

No. See, that's my point.
It's crazy. I wouldn't do it.

It was somebody
else' idea. Yeah, it was.

- You just helped.
- No, wait, wait, wait.

No, no. No, no, no.
After the fact, Ricky.

Because, like you said, it
was somebody else's idea.

Yeah, yeah, I said that
because it wasn't mine.

This is Mr. Morrissey's lawyer.

He didn't ask for a
lawyer. But his sister did.

You be quiet.

He's invoking his right
to be silent. Now, scoot.

Carver: His sister
made his bail?

If Mr. Morrissey turns
up at trial, I'll eat my hat.

He's not the one we
need to worry about.

The girl wasn't
killed in a frenzy.

The wounds were deliberately
and carefully applied.

The body was methodically
wrapped in a plastic tarp.

The crime required
organized thinking,

decision-making... Morrissey
isn't capable of either.

You're saying there's
an accomplice?

A "Leopold" to
Morrissey's "Loeb"?

Well, half a Loeb. The half
Morrissey didn't fry on drugs.

Did you mention he was
in his university chess club?

With an 0-and-12 record.

Please find this accomplice.

Do you know how long it's been
since I've even looked at a chessboard?

You edited the club newsletter.

Oh, back them, chess was life.

My brother had Frazier-Ali,
I had Fischer-Spassky.

Do you remember
a Rick Morrissey?

He was a member of
the club. This guy here.

Oh, yeah, Ricky. Sort of
cute, but he had no game.

I saw in later editions
of your newsletter

that his playing improved.
Did someone give him lessons?

I don't know. Ricky
never really fit in.

I think people thought
he was a little strange.

He was too strange
for the chess club?

That must be
some kind of record.

How about this guy?

He spent his freshman year
building a computer that plays chess.

In 1982, that's no small feat.

Lippman. Brilliant
player. Complete snob.

But if anyone could teach
Morrissey anything, it was him.

Excuse me. No, no,
no, no, no. Listen to me.

"Building a machine
that truly thinks

isn't playing God,
it's being God."

This is going to be fun.

It took me two years to program.

Only a month to beat.

Was it as much fun as
teaching Rick Morrissey?

- What makes you think...
- We talked to a few people in the club.

They thought maybe you had.

What they said actually was, if anyone
could've taught him, it would've been you.

I think they meant
it as a compliment.

Sure, I gave him a few lessons.

The other members of the club

were having too
much fun beating him.

Well, then watching them
get beat by Morrissey,

that must've made it
all the more pleasurable.

I bet he was a better
student than this computer.

I mean, it can't learn
from its mistakes.

Neither could Morrissey.

That's another difference
between men and machines.

You can only teach someone
as much as they want to learn.

(softly) After a while,
Morrissey lost interest in the club.

Did you stay in touch with him?

No. I never saw him on campus.

(near-whisper) I
think he dropped out.

You know anybody else
who was friends with him?

No, and I wasn't
friends with him.

I like how you did that.

Make me cross the room
by keeping your voice down.

It wasn't deliberate.

Come on. It's the classic "Sicilian
gambit" to get me to the door.

We're done, anyway.

Thank you for seeing us.

By the way...

you don't want to know why
we're asking about Morrissey?

I can only imagine
he's in trouble.

I really don't care. I'm
sorry I can't help you.

He was having a ball
moving me around the room.

So he's a control
freak. What else?

He has no record, not even a speeding
ticket, and we went back 20 years.

House in Westchester,
wife, two kids.

He's been a partner in an
engineering firm for the last 15 years.

You need to put him with Morrissey
for something besides a chess game.

Where did these guys live
when they went to Hudson?

Morrissey was in a room on Mott
Street, Lippman was in a dorm.

He have a roommate?

Man: Jay had a lot of
theories about women...

They want this,
they don't want that.

I doubt it was based
on any actual field work.

He never had a date?
Remember, this is the '80s.

There was a lot of "pharmaceutical
experimentation" going on.

One night, Lippman started
asking about Quaaludes.

He says he needs some because he's
got some chick who's hot to party with him.

- Eames: You know who she was?
- No. Some high school chick.

When was this? Right
before spring break.

So you helped him out?

Look, a couple of 'Ludes.
Girl likes to party, why not?

Hey, I don't think he
ever closed the deal.

He would've told me about it.

Okay. Thanks.

(cell phone ringing)

Alyssa Cooney disappeared
in April. This doesn't fit.

Eames.

Jay: If you're going to stay
in the city, you'll need a job.

I can introduce you to
the foreman tomorrow.

I don't know. I got
a fear of heights.

Jay: We're not that high.

Come here. I want to
show you something.

Come on, Rick. Challenge
yourself once in a while.

That's what you said that
night. "Challenge yourself."

That was a long time ago.

A couple of cops came
by my office today,

asking about you.

I didn't tell them anything.

You talked to them, though.

And you didn't tell
me, Rick, did you?

Don't. Don't, Jay.

'Cause I didn't. I would
never tell anything to anybody.

I know you, Rick.

Even after all this time,
you think I don't know you?

No, I mean it. I
didn't say anything.

It's not so hard, Ricky.

Just a step.

No, no. Come on.

Things just haven't
worked out for you, Rick.

Your mom's dead.
Your sister turned you in.

(sobbing) No-oo!

No, she wouldn't...

You must be tired of your life.

Never feeling safe.

Jay...?

It's safety, Rick.

Don't you want to be safe?

Security guard
came on duty at 8:00.

The gate had been left open.

Looks like a suicide.

Oh, yeah? What, did he have
a note pinned to his chest?

This is your fault.

You accused him
without any proof.

He was scared.

That's why he
did this to himself.

We don't think it was a suicide.
We think Ricky was murdered.

What?

Over drugs?

Is that what he was
doing in that place?

Sally... do you
remember Jay Lippman?

He was Ricky's friend in
college. Ricky introduced you.

No.

In February,
before spring break?

No.

Lippman got drugs
from his roommate

because he had a date...

with a high school girl.

You were 17?

It wasn't me.

"I don't blame you,
Ricky. It wasn't your fault.

Please, please call me."
You wrote this in March.

Your brother stopped
coming home. Why?

Lippman drugged you?

(sighs)

Ricky had been telling me
how smart Lippman was.

So we went to his dorm room,

just for a couple of beers.

I started feeling woozy.

I couldn't even stand up.

And Lippman told Ricky

to go down the hall
and get us some Cokes.

Ricky did.

It wasn't his fault.

Eames: What happened?

I was lying on the
bed, just out of it.

Lippman opened my shirt.

He just looked at me.

Looked at you how?

I...

sort of fascinated,
I guess, but frozen.

And then he started...

with one of the bottles.

Then the next thing, Ricky
was banging on the door,

and they were yelling, and then
Ricky got me out of the room.

Thank you.

I know this wasn't easy.

One last thing.

Do you know where
your brother got $10,000?

Not from me.

He would've spent it on drugs.

Yes, my husband
withdrew $10,000.

It was an investment. So what?

You have no business
snooping into our finances.

We do have a warrant.
And we were wondering

why you have the bank call you
every time he takes out money.

Goren: Is it because you
don't trust him anymore?

Because he's had
affairs in the past?

I don't understand.

What has any of this
to do with the police?

Your husband could have
gotten himself into serious trouble.

So, please, just
answer our questions.

There was one affair.

It was a very long
time ago, in '92.

It was very short-lived.

You know the woman? No.

How did you find out
about it? Did he tell you?

No.

He'd been increasingly
unhappy, and he left.

He was gone for a
week, I don't know where.

But when he came
back, it was over.

Things have been
fine ever since.

Before he left, what
was his behavior like?

Was he secretive? Impatient?

I suppose, yes.

And when he came
back from being away,

he was relaxed?

- Why is this...
- He was apologetic...

He brought you gifts?

Yes.

What did he bring you?

A necklace.

And these little black and
white cows for the children.

The necklace, do you remember
what store it came from?

The box said something
like "Bernard's"

or "Berger's."

I don't remember.
Why are you asking me?

It's all right, Mrs. Lippman.

You've been very helpful.

One more thing.

If you want to tell your
husband we were here,

by all means. We have
no secrets from him.

The more he
knows, the better it is.

Tell me exactly
what you told them.

That it was a stupid
affair a long time ago.

This isn't about an affair!

What is going on, Jay?

"Be a good boy,
keep a nice home."

Everything's fine.
You can handle it.

Anne: Jay...

I can handle it, Anne.

This isn't a problem.

It's going to be fine.

We found a "Bernard's
Jewelry" in Montpelier, Vermont.

That fits with the "Ben &
Jerry's" porcelain cows.

So he took his mistress for
an ice cream cone in Vermont.

How does this...?

We sent the Cooney file to the Vermont
State Police. We're waiting to hear.

Before he went to
Vermont, he gave every sign

that he was heading
for a crisis, an eruption.

By the time he came back,
the crisis was resolved.

Simple explanation... He
broke up with his mistress.

"Linda Messali. 21-year-old
prostitute found November, 1992,

behind a service station on
Route 14 near Montpelier."

Manner of death
matched Alyssa Cooney's.

Broken jaw, rope
burns, suffocation,

genital trauma,
wrapped in plastic tarp.

Her pimp was the prime suspect,

but they never
made the case stick.

I don't know that we'll have better
luck sticking it on Mr. Lippman.

Apparently, the forensic
evidence has been long gone.

Oh, for crying out loud.

You can't establish a connection
between Lippman and Morrissey's death,

and Morrissey is the only person
to connect him to the Cooney girl.

Well, forget about
convicting him.

Do we have enough to arrest him?

Well, if you had
the right judge.

I know the right judge.

My client is more than
happy to cooperate

with your investigation.

But we can't understand
the basis for his arrest,

or for his
humiliating treatment.

It's for his own protection.

Jay?

Here.

Your lawyer tells us that
you want to cooperate.

That's good.

The first item,

this incident with Rick
Morrissey's sister Sally.

- What incident?
- Eames: She gave us a statement

You drugged her and
assaulted her in college.

We're not going to
talk about something

the statute of limitations precludes
you from even prosecuting.

If we can't prosecute you,
what's the harm in talking about it?

We refuse to answer any
questions about it. End of story.

I get it. Your
lawyer's in charge,

so we'll just talk to him.

Goren: The sister's statement

made it very clear

your client and Morrissey
were close friends

in the spring of 1983.

You're talking about a
statement I haven't even seen.

I'll answer their
questions. Jay...

I can talk to them. I
have nothing to hide.

Morrissey told me his sister
wanted a date with a college man.

He said she liked doing drugs.

I misunderstood her intentions.

As soon as I
realized my mistake,

I stopped, the date ended,

and Morrissey took her home.

One of the interesting
details that Sally remembered

is you were wearing
boots. Frye boots.

Interesting,

because we found
some old bootprints...

in the basement where
Alyssa Cooney was buried.

I can't see.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

I didn't say you could
touch that. That's evidence.

We went back over

some of the old newsletters
from the chess club.

We found a photo of
you that's very pertinent.

I think it shows
you wearing boots

that might fit that
imprint in the basement.

See?

Those aren't boots,
those are loafers.

I never wore boots,
so you're wrong.

But now you're sitting
where I want you to sit.

Another thing Sally told us,

is you tried to insert a bottle.

That's categorically untrue.

But significant,
because it's consistent

to what was done
to Alyssa Cooney.

It was Morrissey, right,
who picked up Alyssa,

brought her back to you to
make up for taking Sally away?

(whispering) Your partner
has the insane notion

that I was Rick
Morrissey's puppeteer.

Nothing could be
further from the truth.

I don't know that
Morrissey killed that girl,

but if he did, he
did it on his own.

He was a very disturbed...

Now I can hear you.

And you can hear me.

What was disturbing to you?

Was it that Morrissey had
something that you didn't?

Love that you never had?

That's not true.

Love...

that you would
do anything to get?

I'll bet that you were
awkward with girls.

You didn't know
how to talk to them.

They had their own ideas
about what they wanted.

No, no.

Your sexual gropings were
infantile, clumsy and unsatisfying.

My client wants
to return to his cell.

To get this girl... this love...

you needed someone
like Morrissey

to offer up his sister.

To bring you...

Alyssa Cooney.

You got it out of your system,

and now you could
get on with your life.

You became an exemplary man,

with a wife and
a family, a home.

And for a while, these
needs, these thoughts,

were kept... quiet inside you.

But they came back, didn't they?

And you surrendered to them.

And you went north.

(faint whimper)

For 10 years, you held on.

10 years!

This took skill.

It took control.

It took... "grand mastery."

That was the
real feat, wasn't it?

You have no idea.

(sobbing)

(theme music playing)