Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (1999–…): Season 1, Episode 4 - Hysteria - full transcript

In the criminal justice system,
sexually based offenses

are considered
especially heinous.

In New York City, the
dedicated detectives

who investigate
these vicious felonies

are members of an
elite squad known

as the Special Victims Unit.

These are their stories.

So now Nicole
won't talk to Cynthia,

and she doesn't
want me to either.

And, did I mention that
Wendy got her navel pierced?

- Don't even think about it.
- But it's so cool.



Your mom said
no holes, no holes.

Well, wait till you hear
what Stephanie got pierced.

That's enough, Maureen. Let's
let someone else get a word in.

Kathleen, how was school?

My friend Ashley quit.

Quit what? The soccer team?

No school.

She's pregnant.

Honey.

(phone ringing)

Stabler.

- You gotta be Sex Crimes.
- Elliot Stabler.

Olivia Benson. You Homicide?

Sorry, just Vice.
D'Angelo, 31. This way.



The rookie that they saddled
me with puked himself.

It's his first DOA.

- So I gave the kid a break
and sent him for coffee.
- Who found the body?

Couple of looky-loos, they veered
off from their Frommer's Guide.

They saw Times Square,

the Disney Store and a bonus...

- a dead whore.
- How do you know
she's a prostitute?

Did somebody ID
the body already?

After 30 years in
Vice, I think I know.

You get to the point where
you can just smell 'em.

We got a doozy here.

Hey, you want to go check on
your partner, we'll understand.

- Whatever you say.
- Yeah. Thanks.

Do we know what happened here?

Looks like she came back
here willingly with a John

who then turned psycho.

He tries to asphyxiate
her and bash her head in.

The bag still has her
facial impression on it.

We know which one killed her?

No. Only time and a
lab work-up will tell.

Also, her skirt was left hiked
up, so we'll run a rape kit.

They get anything
from these footprints?

There was a 60-man crew
working here yesterday.

But there was one print
with blood tracked in it.

Though only a
partial, but we'll see.

Can you get double
prints on these?

'Cause we could use a
set for our bulletin board.

Hey... a little respect here?

Don't get your boxers
in a twist, she's NHI.

- What's NHI?
- No humans involved.

It means don't work too hard
on this one, why sweat them?

The victim was just a
useless piece of garbage.

Kinda like a cop
who ought to retire.

(theme music playing)

Cragen: All right.
Let's get started.

- What do we got?
- A black prostitute,
late teens.

Asphyxiated with a garbage
bag, severe blow to the head.

Sounds like a case
homicide worked last month.

Street walker named Carmel turned
up wearing a bag near 10th Avenue.

Any ID on this latest vic?

No ID on the body; latent
has no fingerprints on file.

Well, maybe she
was new to the streets.

We're still waiting
on the ME report.

Well, while you wait,
take her photo around,

see if you can find a
co-worker who knew her.

Munch, Cassidy, you available?

To do with as you
will. After court.

- Right... Dr. Buzzjoy.
- That's an open-and-shut case.

Try not to screw it up
with your insane rambling.

And stop looking at my ass.

Hey, you guys, wait up,
wait up. We're not Vice.

We're looking for
the man that did this.

Seen this girl before?

Not around here.
Who'd she piss off?

A guy we think might
be targeting working girls.

Anybody run into
rough trade lately?

Other than a slap and a punch?

Nah, business as usual.

They're all perfect gentlemen.

Hey, come on. This isn't a joke.

You guys could be in real
danger here. Now help us out.

I had a man beat
me up that bad once.

Rose. No, it's all right.

Rose, what happened?

He tied my hands
and feet to the bedpost,

started raping me.

That night he came
back with his buddies.

I don't remember
much after that.

Can you give us a description?

I could give you a group photo,

if I only took the family
album when I left home.

This is Victim's Services.

Call them sometime.

Yeah. Sure.

Look, the guy that we're looking
for uses a plastic garbage bag.

He puts it over the girl's head.

I know somebody
that happened to.

Puerto Rican named Lorinda.

Can you tell us
where we can find her?

Nah. I worked Times
Square with her,

but I don't know where
she went after the sweep.

You might check Ninth.

Her name is Lorinda. Puerto
Rican, 5' 7", long dark hair?

Bad red streak job,
frizzed to the roots?

Yeah, she tried to move
in with a pack of tramps

after Giuliani cleaned
up Times Square.

Led to a bit of a turf war.
Guess who won, sweetie?

You must be very proud.

So where'd you chase
these losers off to?

They were never
heard from again.

That Lorinda you
were talking about?

She tried to sneak back in
here passing for one of us.

Had to bitch-slap
that girl till Tuesday.

That's beautiful. Perfect
comment on the day.

- You seem a little wired.
- It's called no sleep.

Last night Kathleen informs us

one of her friends is pregnant.

- Kathleen is 12.
- One of her older friends.

Some girl that's on the soccer
team that she really respects.

And by older, I mean she's 14.

Did you talk to her about it?

She locks herself in her room.

- But we're gonna
have a talk.
- Right now?

No, I'm calling Children
Services to pick up Rose.

- No way she's legal.
- Oh, come on.

We promised we
wouldn't bust 'em.

She's a baby. All bets are off.

Why don't we stop by
the 31 on the way back,

talk to Vice and see if they
have anything on our victims?

Quarter to 12:00,
they should be at lunch.

- Nope.
- Look who's slumming
at Sam's.

We're working a
case here, D'Angelo.

We may have found a
link to last night's attack.

You ever run across a
Carmel working Vice?

What's a Carmel?

Another DOA who was
wearing a garbage bag.

Also a prostitute.

The one who
bought it last month?

Yeah, that one.
You knew about that?

The garbage bag case.

It didn't occur to you to
bring it up at the crime scene?

No one seemed
to want my opinion.

We've got a third possible vic.

A prostitute named Lorinda.

But she got away.
Do you know her?

I never heard of her.

Let me get a quick bite
and I'll form a search party.

You busted a
Lorinda... Gutierrez

outside Penn Station
my first week on the desk.

- And you are officer?
- Ridley.

- Stabler: You Vice?
- 23 years.

Last two months
on a desk, though.

Maybe she's new.

Aren't you guys late for a
sensitivity training class?

(scoffs)

She was so young.

One side of her
face was bashed in,

and the guy just stood
there and he goes,

"No humans involved."

Next time I hear that crap,

I'm gonna bust some balls.

Yeah. I'd like to
bust D'Angelo's!

Wait till we get our
hands on the perp.

Yeah!

Rodgers: Petechial
hemorrhaging inside the eyelids

indicates death
was by asphyxiation.

How about the blows to the head?

Overkill.

He hit her so hard a piece of the
plastic bag lodged in the wound.

Our guy's pissed.

He rape her? Negative.

As were the drug tests.

Not many clean
hookers out there.

Okay. Thanks.

And here's something
you don't see every day...

perfect teeth from
expensive orthodontia.

Stomach contents include
soybeans, vegetables,

whole grains... A
health-conscious hooker.

How '90s.

Detective, you were on duty
the day Ms. Weber came in

alleging she'd been
molested by Dr. Ott,

- is that correct?
- I remember it very clearly,
counselor.

She seemed to be see-sawing
between anger and humiliation.

Classic symptoms
of molestation victims.

Objection! State of mind!

Sustained.

Did she say why
she was so upset?

Yes. She said she
went to Doctor Ott

to obtain a
prescription for Prozac.

But the good doctor,
diagnosing her with "hysteria,"

recommended an alternative
treatment to chemical dependency.

And what was that treatment?

Miss Weber was told to
disrobe, put her feet up in stirrups

and try to picture David
Hasselhoff on "Baywatch."

Objection! Your Honor,
this witness is not qualified

to testify on the
treatment for hysteria.

Actually, sir, I am. Up until 1952,
hysteria was one of the most commonly

diagnosed illnesses among women.

The medical treatment
was hysterical paroxysm.

Could the witness spell that?

O-R-G-A-S-M.

Objection! Oh!

Would it surprise you
to learn that historically,

the onus fell upon
physicians to bring about

the relief of these
ladies' symptoms?

Your Honor, please
instruct counsel

to withhold his
questions until cross.

I don't mind, Your Honor.

In fact, I believe
the manual version

of this "treatment" dates
back to Hippocrates,

and was attested to right
up through the Middle Ages,

up into the 1890s when the vibrator
was invented to speed things along.

- Together: Objection!
- Sustained.

Detective... is this practice
currently against the law?

Yes, and so is videotaping it.

How did it go in court today?

The ADA was
reticent to admit it,

but I think I won
the case for her.

Got a possible match
from missing persons.

Matches height and
weight on your Jane Doe.

African-American, 19,
named Tracy Henderson.

- Lives in Bronxville.
- Missing how long?

Two days.

- Nice neighborhood.
- You think we're on
the wrong track?

If we're not, this
girl fell pretty far.

- Yes?
- I'm Detective Benson,
this is Detective Stabler.

- We're here
from the Special...
- John?!

Did you find Tracy?

We're not sure, but we need
to ask you a few questions.

When was the last time
you talked to your daughter?

Sunday. She calls every Sunday.

Are you aware of what your
daughter does in Manhattan?

Of course.

She's majoring in Cultural
Studies at Columbia.

- A sophomore.
- And she volunteers
at a literacy center.

We need for you
to look at a photo.

We don't mean to upset you,

but it is rather graphic.

No! Uh... no!

No! God, no.

How did it happen?

She was found in Times
Square. She'd been attacked.

Why?! Why?

That's what we're
trying to find out.

What?

I'm sorry but your daughter
was dressed rather provocatively.

What are you saying?

We have reason to believe Tracy's
attacker was targeting prostitutes.

Prostitutes?

Yes, sir.

(sobbing)

So I hear
notification went well.

The mother, she
actually cold-cocked you?

- No.
- We're reassessing
the prostitute angle.

Why? Just 'cause she's
from a good family?

- "Model" family.
- She does charity work,
for God's sakes.

Can't see how she gets from
there to selling it on the street.

Drugs. Not a trace.

So, the question remains...

What was Ms. Goody-two-shoes

doing wearing
rock-my-world pumps?

Not to mention the
micro-mini and the belly shirt.

Jeffries: It was hot that night.

- That's what I'd wear
if I was going clubbing.
- Oooh!

Are you saying
she'd be asking for it?

I'd never let my daughters
go out dressed like that.

- Yeah, right, just wait.
- What does that mean?

Munch: We digress.
Back to the dead whore.

Jerk-wad, have some
respect for the victim.

I respect hookers. At least
they earn their money up front,

unlike ex-wives who get you
with that lucrative back-end deal.

So you're saying all
women are whores?

Don't be ridiculous. I don't
know all the women in the world.

Cragen: Children!

Okay, our possible living vic,

Lorinda Gutierrez, has
herself quite a rap sheet.

Now, assuming she
actually was attacked

and this is not the figment of
some fellow hooker's crack pipe,

let's find her. Who wants this?

- Cassidy and I would be happy...
- I'm already on it.

Now I understand the
Hendersons informed you

- Tracy had a boyfriend
they don't know much about.
- We're leaving right now.

Call his margins then. Look, if
he can't play with the big boys...

- Cut him off.
- Dennis Caulfield?

Detective Stabler. This
is Detective Benson.

We're investigating the
murder of Tracy Henderson.

- Phillip, cover my lines.
- Sure, Dennis.

When?

Two nights ago.

Oh my God...

That's why.

Why?

We had tentative dinner
plans but she didn't call.

- Did you try to call her?
- No.

No, I just assumed she
got caught up with her work.

You know, she was so dedicated.

What'd you end up
doing that evening?

I ended up watching the
Yankee game with my friend Bill.

Bill Griswold...

I won 50 bucks.

This is just a formality,

but could we get
Mr. Griswold's phone number?

Of course.

Oh, I forgot, he gave me this.

Anyone else she might have
been meeting that evening?

Another guy?

Another guy? No. No,
she didn't date anyone else.

- Benson: You're sure?
- Absolutely.

Maybe one of her friends
from the literacy center?

Out clubbing with the girls?

Benson: Have you guys
had the talk with Kathleen yet?

We tried, she freaked out again.

I don't have to tell you the
damage not dealing with it can do.

I know. I know.

What? Tracy's
volunteer center...

Carmel was killed
six blocks from here.

Tracy have trouble with
anyone at the center?

No. Everyone loved her.

Just ask all of them.

We're gonna have to
speak with each one of them.

Anyone not show up today?

Travis Hall, but he's
missed the last few classes.

- What's his story?
- He's a short-order cook.

And a parolee...

out of Rikers.

Woman: Whatever they
think Travis did, I think he did it.

We appreciate your
help, Mrs. Overton,

but there's no need for
you to see us all the way up.

- What do you think he did?
- Actually, it'd be best
if you stayed here.

That bad, huh?

Oh man, that smell.

Even with the heat!

Must have been dead a week.

Guess he has an alibi.

Okay, let's fill this in.

Carmel was dead
prostitute number one.

Lorinda, a prostitute
attacked a year earlier, is MIA.

Jury's out on Tracy, the
honor student slash prostitute.

Maybe she was wrong
place, wrong time.

Maybe the perp needs glasses.

Carmel received blunt
force trauma to the head.

She was asphyxiated
with a garbage bag,

and left in a
sexualized position.

Cut and paste that to Tracy's.

And to Lorinda's. Except
asphyxiation was only attempted.

Plus she escaped, so there
was no body to position sexually.

Plus she's not dead.

Carmel was black.
Found in an alley.

Black. Construction site.

Lorinda was Latina.
Escaped from an alley.

Whereabouts unknown.

No luck finding
the fille de joi, huh?

Anything else?

I got crime scene
contamination on Carmel.

Powder from latex gloves
determined to be police issue.

- On three fingers.
- Forensic tech got sloppy?

The tech was Chau.

He's as meticulous as they come.

So how did we get contamination?

Stabler: Well, I can
tell you how we didn't.

Why not Travis Hall?

Because he OD'd a
week before she was killed.

Okay, well, you
take something away,

it'd be nice if you
had something to add.

I'd say the key
is finding Lorinda.

- How close did you get?
- The trail went cold on Ninth.

Where the girls aren't actually
girls, but boys being girls.

They weren't very forthcoming
about where they chased

the female hookers
during that he/she turf war.

Oh, that's Gansevoort
by the meat market.

What? I remember it
from canvassing during

a bait-and-switch bashing.
What're you looking at?

- My man.
- Let's go.

Benson: Hey, maybe that's her.

The elusive Lorinda Gutierrez.

Hey!

- Wait up!
- Come on back here! Let's go!

- Stop for a second.
- Sweetheart. Relax.

It's okay. We're not Vice.

- We're not Vice.
- We're not here to bust you.

We're looking for the man
who attacked you last year.

We're hoping you
can help us with that.

Come on.

Freak is right in front of me.

But you didn't
get a look at him.

Nah, 'cause, bam! he
shines his light in my eyes...

Blinding me. Then, bam!

He hits me with the flashlight.

I'm woozy, then this culo
puts a bag over my head

and tries to suffocate me.

At this point he's behind you.

Pulling the bag tight.

I'm clawing at his hands,
but they're too smooth...

'Cause he's wearing gloves.

I told you already,
like doctor's.

He ain't letting up,

so I reach back, grab
his cojones and jerk,

and I tear ass outta there
like I'm fixing to do now.

There's no description
you can give us?

Why you working this so hard?

He attack somebody who matters?

He's right in front of her.

He blinds her, he hits her...

He gets in back of her and
pulls the bag across her face.

She's clawing at his hands,
but he's wearing gloves...

Doctor's. So she twists
his cojones and takes off.

Never even got a
glimpse of the guy.

She said doctor's
gloves, meaning latex?

Benson: Yeah. Why?

Carmel had powder from
latex gloves on her fingers.

Yeah. But that was
determined to be police issue.

- Not from the perp.
- Yeah, but say the attacker
is wearing the gloves,

she starts clawing at his hands,

maybe the fingers slip inside.

Munch: Hel-Io!

You say the doer was
standing right in front of Lorinda?

Stabler: Yep.

And you're sure that
she shielded her eyes

like this and not like this?

I'm positive. We went
through it a dozen times.

- No variation.
- Civilian...

And who does
this look like, folks?

Here's a clue... non-gun
hand, held to the side?

A cop.

Pow.

Look, no offense, but all cops
are pigs, far as I'm concerned.

- Who's the biggest?
- That fat Irish guy.

What's his name? Come
around all grabby ass.

And you know he
don't want to pay.

O'Brien. Girl,
O'Brien went down.

No-oo. Yeah.

In the Midtown South
Brothel Scandal.

- Don't you read
the papers, loca?
- Why you always...

Girls, yo, yo. Use your words.

- Use your words.
- We're looking for a cop
with a nasty temper,

may have roughed you up before.

Last time I got busted, the pig nearly
dislocated my shoulder cuffing me.

I wasn't even resisting!

Do you remember
this officer's name?

He gonna know I said anything?

If it's him, we're gonna
get him off the street

and you will never
hear from him again.

Big Italian Vice dick.

Spit his toothpick right
at my face... D'Angelo.

- Sal D'Angelo.
- We polled the streets.

- He's our lead candidate.
- His job is to arrest
these girls.

- Of course
they're gonna have a beef.
- We know this guy.

He's a real jerk.

He was the first officer at
the scene of Tracy's murder.

- He was acquainted
with the other victims.
- Make some calls.

- Already did.
- Abuse of his badge,

bilking overtime, couple
other slaps on the wrist.

So he's not clean, but he's not
dirty by street standards either.

- What precinct
is he out of?
- The 31.

Lennie Briscoe
used to work the 31.

Let me give him a call,
see if he can shed any light

on what's not in
D'Angelo's file.

When you were at the 31, did you
know a cop named Sal D'Angelo?

- The '70s are a blur.
- Hey, tell me about it.

As close as I ever
came to time travel.

The good old days, huh?

I remember back in '75,

I'm in Atlantic City
sweating my ass off

in a room with no
air conditioning,

I go down to the bar, I order
a double vodka on the rocks.

I tip it back,
next thing I know,

I'm eye-to-eye with a
worm in a tequila bottle.

I look around, it's not
Atlantic City. It's Mexico.

Me too. Only I wake up
eye-to-eye with my service revolver,

crying like a baby.

Yet somehow we managed to
stay a step ahead of our squads.

A bunch of wiseguys
like D'Angelo.

D'Angelo, what a piece of work.

Last year, PBA Golf
Tournament, he's there.

Same little snot.
Loud, obnoxious.

Always picking his teeth.

He threw a club on the 13th.

So he has a temper. Excessive?

Naw, it's mostly bluster.

I mean, he and his
partner came in second.

D'Angelo bought
a round of drinks.

See, you didn't kill as many
brain-cells as you thought.

You haven't lost a step either.

You still know how to
interrogate the hell out of a guy.

Look, Lennie, the
reason I'm asking,

we're looking for a Vice cop
with a serious cruel streak.

D'Angelo's a bastard.

Come on, so are you. So am I.

We're all bastards.

But his partner, now
there's a real wacko.

How so?

That same day... This
guy sinks a 45-foot putt.

Now, everybody goes crazy.

They're yelling, "Ripley's
Believe It or Not."

No Ridley, that was his name.

Ridley... he was very strange.

Well, what's so strange
about a lucky putt?

Not the putt. The
guy's reaction to it.

When that ball fell in the
cup, everybody went nuts.

Ridley doesn't
even crack a smile.

Like he's got ice
water in his veins.

So he's cool under pressure. We
give cops commendations for that.

No. But the very next hole,

he slices one into the woods.

He goes nuts...
Attacks a ball washer.

- Completely destroys it.
- Waiter: Something to drink?

I'll have a Perrier.

You still drinking
that French swill?

- Let me have a Pellegrino.
- You always gotta trump me,
Lennie.

Elliot, anything
new on D'Angelo?

We're spinning our wheels here.

Briscoe give you anything? Yeah.

I want you to check out
an officer named Ridley.

Who?

Ridley, Peter Francis.

This is from IAD.
How'd you get this?

Don't ask, don't tell.

Look at this. Two assault
complaints by prostitutes.

Both dropped.

Domestic abuse complaint filed
by his ex-wife... also dropped.

Wait till you get a load of
the psych report in the back.

Red flags? Looks like China.

I want you to pull everything
you can on this guy.

Question anybody
he ever worked with.

If you can, go all the way back

to the first sandbox
he ever farted in.

Which is?

Kew Gardens.

The kid was a nightmare.

Things weren't
easy for that boy.

How can you stand
there and defend him?

- Poor thing,
with that mother of his.
- What about her?

Saltines... that was the sign.

If the crackers were outside
the door, he wasn't to come in.

That meant she was
in there with a customer.

- You know, a John.
- He'd sit outside the door
all night sometimes.

In the cold, in the rain.

He could hear the
goings-on in there.

Saltines for dinner, imagine.

- This is gonna take weeks.
- Benson: I know.

- Ridley moved around a lot.
- We gotta get a better system.

Okay. Let me pull the
assaults in his precincts.

You pull his arrest records.

I understand how Ridley
could grow to hate his mother.

But to get to this point?

Frustration,
resentment, self-pity.

I mean, the guy stayed a
low-level officer for 31 years.

Yeah.

Probably looking at forced
retirement in a year or two,

- never having made his mark.
- His wife left him a bitter,
woman-hating loner.

That'd do it. That's a trigger.

- These are them.
- (Pager beeping)

And that's the trigger
for me. I'm gone.

I gotta kick soccer
balls at Kathleen.

That should get her to talk.

I don't even know if she's gonna
show up. She's been in hiding.

She's goalie, huh? Yeah.

Make sure you stress how aggressively
she needs to protect the goal.

Wow. You coming?

No, I'm gonna stay here
for a little bit, you go ahead.

Okay. I'm taking the eggroll.

All right.

You didn't come
out again, honey.

So?

So one ball can change the game.

It's like... it's like life.

When I get close to
you, just come on out.

Cut off my angle. Okay?

Let's try it again.

Okay, Come on out. Come on out.

Thanks, that was great advice.

Honey, you did
great. You did great.

It's just that the players in this
game, they know a lot of tricks.

Never commit until you know
where they're coming from.

And even then, you
just gotta be careful.

- You understand?
- Whatever.

Good. Okay. That's good.

All right.

Because they'll be attacking
you from every angle.

Just guard it with
your life, sweetie.

- Oh, boy.
- Okay.

Come on, kick it back.

Dad, I'm a virgin, okay?!

Okay.

Olivia?

Hey.

Hey. Hey.

How late did you
work last night?

- Is it morning?
- What were you doing?

Cross-referencing
attacks on prostitutes

with precincts
where Ridley worked.

How far'd you go back?

29, 30 years.

Okay, what do you got for me?

Take a look and tell
me what you think.

See a pattern?

It's like a string
of paper dolls.

Detectives.

Officer Ridley, we're gonna need you
to come down to the precinct with us.

I know what this is about.

I won the policeman's
raffle, right?

So, let's do it.

I'm gonna need your weapon, sir.

Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Second weapon!

So how goes the
psychological warfare?

It's working...

on us at least.

How long has he been in there?

45 minutes.

He acts as if he's looking
at a Van Gogh exhibit.

He's ready.

That's some nice police work.

Only took you 31 years.

Can you believe not one
of those morons in Vice

ever picked up on it?

The irony is...

I almost had it
out of my system.

The need to cleanse?

I even let one
get away last year.

Yeah, after she nailed
you in the gonads.

That night I had a cold,

almost didn't go out.

Glad I did though.

She was a particularly
rancid piece of meat.

$20 a pop.

Of course, those
were 1979 dollars.

And this little junkie whore,

weighed about 80 pounds.

I remember pulling
the bag so tight,

it lifted her clear
off the ground.

I know the drill.

But you gave me too much credit.

What's that supposed to mean?

It's not mine.

It's name is Tracy Henderson.

Don't jerk us around, Ridley.

18 counts gets you the
same lethal injection as 19.

- You know that.
- Yes. I know.

That's why I want my record

accurately documented...

For posterity.

Okay.

You took the FBI seminar
on pattern killers, right?

MO and signatures. Sure.

MO is how a
perpetrator operates;

signature is what distinguishes
him from others with similar MO's.

He didn't kill Tracy Henderson.

Why? Because he says so?

Because he's a pattern killer.

All his vics were
found in remote areas.

All of them were placed
very carefully into position.

He has them holding
hands for God's sake.

What about the
bag over her head?

The crushed skull?

I don't know. Coincidence?

Copycat?

No...

A first-timer. Impulsive, young.

All right. Young. Impulsive.

My gut tells me the
killer knew Tracy.

- Did you call the Hendersons?
- Next on my list.

Cross it off. The father's here.

Detective.

I owe you an apology.

My wife was in shock
and she feels terrible.

We're very grateful to you
for catching Tracy's killer.

And we wanted to thank you.

Mr. Henderson, I
am sorry, but the man

we have in custody is
not your daughter's killer.

But in the news, in the papers,

it was the way Tracy...
You said it was the guy.

We intended to call
you this morning.

Stabler: Mr. Henderson,
I give you my word,

we are gonna
find Tracy's killer.

Okay.

All right. All right.

- God, do I feel crappy.
- It's not your fault.

18 out of 19, you
think we'd be happy.

Okay, so now we go
for a perfect record.

Did you ever find out why
Tracy was in Times Square?

All we know is she had
tentative plans with her boyfriend,

but she never called him.

Now you confirmed that
against her phone logs, right?

We pulled them, but...

We got diverted by
the Ridley investigation.

Okay. So, now
you're diverted back.

Dennis' alibi checked.

If Tracy was
leading a double life,

the boyfriend would
be the one to know.

Did it seem like maybe he
was holding something back?

I didn't get that from him.
He was very forthcoming.

- Very helpful.
- Maybe too helpful?

He was pretty
quick with that card.

His alibi's business
card. Right in his pocket.

Just kinda...

He was watching the
game with his best friend.

I know my best friend's
number by heart.

You know what they call an
accomplice in prison, Billy?

Bunkmate.

25-to-life is a serious
downgrading from the old lifestyle.

Okay, Dennis' real girlfriend

is a buyer for Prada
from Scarsdale.

They're probably
gonna get married.

- How'd Tracy feel about that?
- Dennis just wanted

a little strange before
he settled down.

He saw Tracy at a
club one night. Very hot.

Every guy wants
her, Dennis get her.

The problem is, the package
doesn't match the wrapping.

She's very inexperienced.

- A virgin?
- It was even her first
glass of wine.

She wakes up the next morning

with a big hangover
and in love with Dennis.

So poor Dennis didn't get the
jungle fever he was looking for.

More like iced mocha.

So what happened that night?

She calls him up,
wants to go dancing.

Says she's even gonna
wear something wild for once.

But Dennis stood her
up and went home alone.

That's why he asked
me to lie for him.

He's my friend.

So get a new one.

There's nothing that links the
boyfriend to Tracy's crime scene.

There's gotta be something.
I'm not gonna question him

until we have something
concrete to hold over him.

Our luck, his lawyer's
even slicker than he is.

- Let's go over it again. What are we not seeing here?
- What is there to see?

We have no hair,
no fibers, no prints.

At the crime scene...
they had a partial footprint.

It was the vic's blood
tracked in the shoe print.

What have you got on the shoe?

Size 11-C, exotic Italian.

Valleti Brothers.

You mean the Valenti Brothers?

Uh, yes, I do.

How'd you know that?

They run an ad every
week in "The Times,"

highlighting the fact that they're
exclusively available at one location.

Man: In that size, we've
sold maybe a dozen pair.

- They're new this fall.
- Benson: They're beautiful.

They're $820 a pair.

- Are you in the market?
- Yes, I am.

For those 12 receipts.

Would you pull them for us?

- You wanna know
what kills me?
- Hmm?

Is, even if we prove
that he owned the shoes,

he's still had plenty
of time to ditch them.

Trust me, that jerk did
not throw away $800 shoes.

Munch: This is what
we got from his place.

This kid's a closet
Imelda Marcos.

We've got wingtips,
tassels, white bucks.

Everything but the ugly-ass
shoes you're looking for.

Damn it.

Did we cover everything
in that warrant?

Munch: We searched his office,
we searched his gym locker.

We searched everything.

Everything but the
house he grew up in.

Current voters'
registration card.

It's still his legal address.

Benson: That was taken
spring break in Vermont.

- She loved to ski.
- She's quite pretty.

Not anymore. You
couldn't stomach

the photos we got
from the crime scene.

Why are you telling us this?

Because she was your
son's dirty little secret.

Although she was a
lovely, decent girl who came

from an affluent
family, a lot like yours.

Except she was black. Would
you have had a problem with that?

No, of course not.

- But he never
mentioned her to you?
- Charles: This is insane.

- You don't know our son.
- Stabler: Do you?

What are you doing here?

You mind if we take
a look in your bag?

Yeah, I do mind.

Too bad. Why did you kill her?

Did she make problems
with your real girlfriend?

Maybe he took her
out for one last fling.

- Perhaps I'd
better call my lawyer.
- Perhaps you should.

You took her out for a pizza
and a quickie outside in the open?

That's pretty kinky.

She refused you.

Your friend Griswold
said she's kind of square.

That's so frustrating.

So, you got so pissed
off when she refused you,

you got a little too
rough, didn't you?

Try and shake
some sense into her?

And when she didn't get up,

you panicked and
dragged her into the alley.

"Ah, what am I
going to do now, huh?

Whatever,

I'll just dump her body and run.

I'll wake up the next
morning, go to work,

pretend nothing ever happened

and maybe it'll
actually be that way."

No. No?

No! But something did happen.

I have no idea what
they're talking about, Mother.

Really? Then why
didn't you mention her?

Well, I was going to, but you...

Oh my God...

he's wearing them.

Nice shoes.

(theme music playing)