Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (1999–…): Season 10, Episode 16 - Ballerina - 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.

You're so hot.

What else
do you have?

Everything you need.

Kevin, what's up?

What's up is, show's over.



Hey, that's my pay-per-view.

No, Stan.
That's my pay-per-view,

and my TV,
and my frigging couch.

Fine. Here's 20 bucks.

Keep it.
You're moving out. Now.

You want me out
of here, asswad?

Make me.

Thought so.

Get your ass out
that door, Stan.

Whole or in pieces,
it's your choice.

I said I ain't going out.

You shot me?

How?

Hey, clear a path, people.
SVU is on the scene.



And you are?

Sorry. Dale Stuckey.
New CSU tech.

Not that I want
to be CSU forever,

you know.
But, hey, don't worry.

I'm not gunning for either
of your jobs. Yet. Right?

All right. Why don't we just
start with the crime scene?

Yeah. Apartment 110.
Right here.

Okay. Didn't dispatch say that
the call came from apartment 112?

That's just
collateral damage.

The bullet went
through the wall,

killed the guy next door.
Cool, huh?

Anyways, slug came from in
there, where the real action is.

So, I see you've
met our new tech.

And how.

Well, pretty obvious
what happened, right?

I mean, rape, murder,
suicide.

Bing, bang, bong.

Dale, thanks. I think
we've got it from here.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.
So I overhead the neighbor

saying that he saw
Mr. Reyes,

that's our male deceased,
and Miss Flores,

the one on the bed,
coming home earlier.

So I'm thinking
that they went out,

had a few too many,
came home,

argued, he attacked her, killed
her, realized what he's done,

offed himself. You've got it
all figured out, don't you?

Some cases
solve themselves, right?

Hey, what now? We all
going to Disneyland?

Hey, let's not pack
our bags just yet.

Dale, how tall would you say
that our victims are?

Well, just eyeballing,
I'd say she's about 5'1".

He's 5'6", tops.

So which one's head made
this hole in the wall,

all the way up here,
at 5'11" inches?

Oh.
And the gun, Dale.

What hand does our
dead guy have it in?

His right hand. Now, check
out the belt in his pants.

What side does he have
his cell phone clipped to?

The left side.
Mmm.

Consistent with
a left-handed person.

As is the direction
that he buckles his belt.

Wait. You guys think
someone else murdered them

and made it look
like a suicide?

Bing, bang, bong.
Check this out.

If there was a third person, I'd say
he waited for these two inside here.

Left a nice ear print.

I guess our killer
didn't like what he heard.

We're trying to
match an ear print?

O'Halloran says every ear
is physically unique.

I mean, kind of like fingerprints.

Europe has led the way in
standardizing ear print identification.

Just a matter of time
before the US catches up.

Hey, you better hope we don't,

'cause those
Dumbos of yours

will probably contaminate
every crime scene we step on.

Still, we have no
database to compare it to.

So it doesn't
get us very far.

Good news. Warner got epithelial
DNA from the ear print,

matched it to
the semen found in Tisa.

Perp in the system?
There's no hits,

but it confirms our
third-party theory.

Okay. So we know the perp was
lying in wait in the closet.

Did he bring along
the. 45?

We found a case and receipt in the
bedside table. Gun belonged to Tisa.

Look at the scan
station images.

My guess is that
she and Alejandro

were about to get
busy when the perp

jumps out of the closet.
Fight ensues.

Alejandro gets knocked out.
Now, Tisa grabs the gun.

But she's disarmed, raped.
Perp shoots her.

Shoots Alejandro to make it
look like a murder-suicide.

So now the question is, which
victim was our mystery male's target?

Well, probably not Alejandro. He's
an engineering student. No priors.

Tisa's not so clean.

She works at a taxi dance
joint on 215th and Broadway.

Vice busted it
twice for prostitution.

The Empire Dance Academy?

That's what it
used to be.

It sold in '07.
So no more tutus.

Now, it's tequila
and tongue jobs.

Any idea who owns
this dump?

Bridget Sulloway,
822 Park Avenue.

Sounds like a new Mayflower
Madam sailed into town.

Can I help you?

We're looking for
Bridget Sulloway.

There's no soliciting in this building.

Good. They're a pain in the ass.

Police.

I'll see if
she's available.

Hello.
Right here.

Yes, of course.

I'm always available
for New York's Finest.

Scoot, Chet.
Scoot. Please come in.

Come in. Come in. Come in.
And call me Birdie.

Birdie, I'm Detective Stabler.
My partner, Detective Benson.

Hello. This is a lovely apartment.

Thank you, dear. It's our little
piece of heaven, isn't it, Chet?

I'll get the martinis.

Don't mind my nephew.

He's very protective of me.
Makes a mean martini, though.

Would you care for one?
No, thank you.

But you could tell us
about the property

you own at
215th and Broadway.

Oh! That's my old
ballet studio.

You were a dancer?

Yes, I was. Thank you,
dear. You're welcome, love.

I was a dancer, a singer, a
little cabaret here and there.

And then when I found out that they
were going to sell my old building,

I asked my husband
to buy it for me,

so that they wouldn't
go out of business.

Marv's the owner. No,
Birdie. You're the owner.

My accountant had me put the
deed in your name. Liability.

And who are you two?

NYPD.

We were wondering
what kind of business

it is that you run
in that building.

I told them it was
a ballet studio.

Actually,
that place is gone.

What do you mean, it's gone? You
promised me that you'd take care of it.

Well, the old queen who ran
it couldn't pay the rent.

I mean, I'm not
running a damn charity.

Kicked them out, found
somebody who could pay.

Who's the current tenant?
The Bailarina Room.

Some crappy club, fills up
with mostly border jumpers.

Marv. Well, Latino, Hispanic.

The guy who runs it
can hardly speak English.

What has this got
to do with anything?

It's got to do with a rape
and double homicide.

One of the victims may be connected
to your property. Tisa Flores?

Don't know her.
How about Alejandro Reyes?

You know, I got 30
buildings in the city.

I don't know
who works in them.

All I know is that
this Bailarina Room

doesn't open
until after 9:00.

You want to know about
somebody who got killed?

I'd go ask them.

How long
have you known Tisa?

Six months.

She's in school,
but her mom got sick.

So she started here nights
to make extra money.

By dancing with men.

And sitting with them,
talking with them.

Lot of our customers
aren't too good with girls.

I mean, they pay by the
minute just to hang out.

Is that the only thing
that they pay for?

Some girls take customers
back there and do more.

But I ain't no corner girl.
Tisa wasn't, neither.

Any of the customers
get out of line?

All the time.

Guys want more
or get jealous.

Tisa kept having problems
with this one ping?inito.

Little penguin?

The Jews. Black pants, white shirt?

Orthodox. Got you.

We call over there
the South Pole,

because that's where
the ping?initos hang out.

You see Tisa's
ping?inito over there?

No. I haven't seen him
all night.

Look, I've got to
get to work.

Thanks, anyway.

That's him.

Hey. You want to
buy a dance?

I only dance
with one girl.

Tisa, right?

Yeah.
She's my girlfriend.

So I guess you're not going
to dance with me, then.

Who the hell are you?

Police.
Turn your head around.

What? What is that? Don't touch me.

All right.

You don't want to
show us your ear?

We'll take it downtown.
Come on.

I didn't kill Tisa.

I loved her. Well, they're
not mutually exclusive.

Besides,
she didn't love you.

She would have.

She just needed time.

Efraim, face it.

You were just another check
on her dance card.

I wasn't like
those losers.

I made a picnic
for her once.

Great. I'm glad
you had fun.

But then
where did she go?

Hmm? Home with you?
Didn't think so.

She went home
to her boyfriend.

You knew she had
a boyfriend, right?

A real one.

She was going to
break up with Alejandro.

Hey, he knows him by name.

I bet Efraim knows a lot.

Where Tisa lives, how
to break into her place.

He did that
two nights ago.

I was at home two nights ago. I swear.

He knows the thrill
of waiting for her.

Knowing how happy
she'll be when...

But then she
came home with him.

You got scared, ducked
into the closet, listening.

Waiting for him to leave.
But he didn't.

I mean, maybe you even heard
them starting to have sex.

Is that when you snapped?

No!

I never did
anything mean to Tisa.

Everybody else did.
Alejandro criticized her.

Customers tried to make her
go back to the corner.

But she couldn't
even complain because

the head guy was
the worst of all.

He's the one who
was always after Tisa.

Okay, this head guy. What
is he? The club's manager?

Higher up. I think he owns the building.

Guy's a stalker.

Let me guess.
His name is Marv.

Yeah. He's in there all the
time. You can't miss him.

Wears a big diamond watch.

I understand you nabbed
our le'chaim lover boy.

Yeah. Wrong guy. He finally
let us take an ear print.

Didn't match.
So we're nowhere?

Well, not really.

Efraim pointed us back
to somebody very interesting.

Marv Sulloway.
The landlord?

And broke,
according to his taxes.

He claims
$27,000 annual income.

And this is a guy who lives
in a penthouse on Park Ave?

Got to be cooking the books.

IRS thought so, too.

Audited him three times.
Never nailed him.

Well, it means he's smart
and he's got lawyers.

So before we
take a run at him...

Make sure we've got
all our ducks in a row.

Detective Benson?

Birdie.

Can we talk?
It's about my husband.

Yes, of course. Let's...

Why don't we go up to
the lounge? Just this way.

I'm sorry. I mean, Marv usually
isn't such a boorish man.

What did I tell you?
Protective.

He ever have to
protect you from Marv?

Physically? Oh! No.
Birdie.

Well, maybe Marv drinks
a little bit too much.

But I can hold my own.

After all, I was married
to four men before him.

And when my father died,
I had to fend for myself.

That couldn't have
been easy in this city.

Especially as a dancer.

Lot of grabby producers. Which
is another reason I came today.

I understand that poor girl
who died was a dancer?

She was.

I want to pay
for her funeral.

Birdie, that really isn't necessary.

Yes, it is.

To make up for my
husband's callousness.

Marv
and his pen chewing.

Did I mention
he was a pig?

There you go.

Thank you.

You know, I have a good mind to
march straight down to City Hall

and file divorce papers
on that jackass.

Finally.

This is incredibly generous of you.

And on the bright side,
at least your

nephew will always
be there for you.

Chet? Be a poodle
and go get me a cup of tea.

I saw a teapot downstairs.

Tea.

To be perfectly honest with
you, he's not my nephew.

It's a little game
we play.

Some years ago, I had a
girlfriend. She was a Rockette.

And she gave birth to Chet out of
wedlock. She died when he was six.

And I took him in, and he's
been with me ever since.

Well, he's a very
lucky man.

I'm the lucky one.

Chet's the only person
who's ever really loved me.

Sometimes I think my real
talent is in attracting bad men.

Well, good ones
are hard to find.

I picked some doozies,
though.

The first one
was a drug dealer.

Second one
liked little boys.

My third husband, Philip, he
may have been nice. I don't know.

Short marriage?

All of four days.

We were sailing to Bermuda
for our honeymoon.

A freak storm came up,
and he was swept overboard.

The one after Philip was a
womanizer. And now, here's Marv.

But I swear he was funny and
charming when I first met him.

Then last night,
after he went to bed,

I sneaked into his office and
I looked through his files.

I found out that
the properties he owned

were all strip clubs and peep
joints and horrible places.

You had no idea that
he'd been lying to you?

There was no other
suspicious behavior?

None whatsoever.

Here's your tea, love.

Thank you, Chet.
Thank you.

Well, let me get
rid of that for you.

Don't worry about it.
I'll dispose of it.

Thanks, again.

You're kidding.

You're really telling me that
Marv Sulloway's DNA is on this?

Lurking in a crusty coat of slobber.

So if Warner runs it
and says it's a match

for the semen
found inside Tisa?

You have my blessings
to nail the son of a bitch.

I can't wait to see the
look on this A-hole's face.

Do me a favor.
Let me cuff him.

Better yet,
let Birdie do it.

It's Marv.

Oh, my God. I looked
up just as he jumped.

Oh! Detectives. Did you decide
to try the martinis after all?

Where are
Mr. And Mrs. Sulloway?

Marv is in the study,

and Birdie has retired
for the evening. Why?

Chet, you and I are
going to talk in there.

Birdie.

You recognize her?

She's who I used to be.

Did you find anything?
Did you find a note?

Nothing on paper
or his computer.

Did Marv say anything unusual
earlier? Or seem despondent?

No. No, I didn't even speak to him.

I was going to call a
divorce lawyer in the morning.

What about you, Chet?

He seemed normal to me.

He came home, he took his martini,
and he went into the office.

And I assumed that he was
doing what he always does.

Surf porn.

Detectives?

Would you excuse
us for a moment?

What do you got, Dale?

Well, I wanted to be more thorough,

like you showed me
the other day.

So I dusted
the open window.

Now, odds are, a jumper
would have faced it,

grabbed the sides,
stepped up onto the sill.

So his thumbprints would be
facing upwards in the frame.

Except that they're
pointing downward.

Like he had his back
against the window.

Trying not to go out.

I think our case just went
from suicide to murder.

Bing, bang, bong.

Why do we need
to come in?

So our CSU techs
can finish their work.

Besides,
we have a few questions

so we understand
the sequence of events.

In other words,
the usual paperwork.

Mrs. Sulloway. I'm Captain Cragen.
I'm very sorry for your loss.

Thank you. John, why
don't you escort her

to the Interview Room? And,
Fin, take Chet to my office.

You're splitting
us up?

It's not for long.

She just needs
to sign some forms

for the release of
Mr. Sulloway's body.

Dear, don't make a fuss.

Okay.

After you, John?

Right this way.

Warner called.
Marv's ear print

matches the one
inside Tisa's closet.

So he's our killer.
Case closed.

Now, we have to figure out which
one of them is our killer's killer.

Well, that's if Marv was pushed.

Captain. His hand prints were
going the wrong way on the window.

Warner also found excessive
amount of tricyclic antidepressant

in Marv's bloodstream.
So he was drugged.

Or he drugged himself.

If we're wrong and Marv stumbled
and fell out of the window,

we don't want to traumatize
an already grieving widow.

Again, thank you for coming in.

I know this is
a difficult time.

Well,
it hasn't quite hit me, yet.

I understand. May I?

Thank you. There are so few
gentlemen left in the world.

Mrs. Sulloway,
do you have any idea why

your husband wanted
to take his own life?

I have no idea.

He hadn't mentioned suicide
or being depressed lately?

No, no, not at all.

But then again, Marv was
never the most expressive man.

Used to be.

When we first met,
he even wrote me poetry.

But, the last few years, we
haven't been exactly confidants.

Like you and Chet are.

Chet and I are special.

Mmm.

You think Marv
was jealous?

Jealous was only one of his
many delightful qualities.

Jealous, irrational, alcoholic,
rageaholic, porn addict.

What about drugs?

I was...
I was just his bartender.

But Birdie might know
if he was popping pills.

Lipitor, Zantac.
And there was another one.

I think, it's Doxepin.
Doxepin?

That's an antidepressant.

Is it?

Well, I just remember Chet
going through Marv's

medicine cabinet one day, and
laughing like hell over all the names,

and counting out all the poisons
that the old man had to take.

Poisons?

That's what I call them.

When I was nine, my father
was taken to the hospital.

They said it was nothing
serious. A kidney stone.

He said he'd be
home the next day.

Only he wasn't.
They killed him.

And I was left all alone.

I'm sorry.

Thank you.

Look, I'm not saying that my
father was a very nice man.

In some ways, he was a
lot like Marv, the bastard.

Still, no child
deserves to be an orphan.

No. You're right.

And that's when I
decided then and there,

that all doctors are nothing
but well-paid murderers.

To hell with them.

You know,
I haven't been to one

or touched a pill
bottle in 60 years.

So you don't know if Marv was
regularly taking tricyclics.

What did I just say?

I don't know anything more
than what I've been telling you.

I know everything about
her. I am her soul mate.

That's why you're
so protective of her.

Exactly.

So when was the last time
that you had to protect her?

Well, that would be
two days ago,

when you and your
partner came by.

Marv went mental.
He was slamming doors

and he was sweating
through his shirt.

And Birdie asked him.
She said, "What is wrong?"

And he started
screaming at her.

So I said to him,
"You, leave her alone. "

And he lunged at me
like this crazy animal.

And then he
bolted for the door.

That man was in trouble.

Chet, what if I told
you that Marv Sulloway

was under
investigation for murder?

You're joking.

The dancer that he
claimed not to know?

He murdered her
and her boyfriend.

I can't believe it.

And to think that Birdie
was married to the man for...

For 11 years.

Good ones?

Why, I see you're married. So you
must know they're not all good.

Right. Do you think Marv was happy?

Well, I don't think he knew
that I was contemplating divorce.

But you had
separate bedrooms.

Marv was a snorer.

And Chet?

Chet?
Chet sleeps like a baby.

I meant, how did he feel
about your husband?

I hated the man
even more than he hated me.

You think he was
threatened by you?

What do you mean?

By your
relationship with Birdie.

You just said that the
two of you were soul mates.

I've been by her side
my entire life. Right.

So it couldn't have thrilled
Marv too much to always have

the nephew tagging along.

But I don't care
what he thinks.

Especially after you said
what he did to those people.

I mean, I always thought
he was having affairs.

Though God knows what woman
could tolerate that man.

Birdie did.

Bless her heart.
She's a very special person.

And you two have a very
special relationship.

Yes.
Mmm-hmm.

How special, Chet?

Excuse me? Come on. You're a grown man.

You have needs.

I'm not sure that's
any of your business.

And Birdie isn't really your
aunt. So how special is it?

Chet was 18 when
we first made love.

I suppose you
find that shocking.

But our relationship has
always been very intimate.

So being physical
just made sense.

Well, yes.

He was a sensitive young
man. He needed guidance.

And I love him. I love him more
than anyone I've ever known.

So why not get married?

Well, I think
our age difference

might strike some
people as unseemly.

But I did love
my husbands.

Until I found out what kind
of men they really were.

And then it was back
to Chet.

I'd do anything for him.

And he'd do anything
for me.

Like kill your husband?

What?

Well, you know,
Marv was a dangerous man.

We just got proof
that he murdered

those two people
from his club.

Well...

You don't seem surprised.

Nothing surprises me
about that man.

Well, all the more reason
that Chet

would do anything to
protect you from him.

Uh-uh.

My Chet is very kind, very
gentle. He could never hurt anyone.

Marv Sulloway is a disgusting,
egotistical piece of crap.

But I did not kill him.

I think you did. Mmm-hmm? Is
that why you brought me in here?

I think that you spiked his martini
last night, you got him woozy,

and you pushed him
out that window.

I gave him his drink, yes.
But after that, I told you.

He went into his office
to surf porn. Okay, Chet.

You sure that
that's what happened?

Yes.

Because we have
people at your

apartment right now,
collecting evidence.

Every glass,
every bottle of booze,

every pill bottle.

And guess whose fingerprints
are going to be on them, Chet?

Of course my prints
are all over those bottles.

I am their bartender.

So that's your story?

Hmm?

Nothing else happened
after Marv got home?

I heard him come in. But I
didn't see him. I was in my room.

And you and Chet
didn't have any

conversations
about Marv before then?

About what?

Your plans to divorce.

Yes. I don't know.
Perhaps.

Yeah, I really don't know.

I don't remember if I told
him about seeing the lawyer

in the morning or not.
Okay.

But Chet knew how
much you hated Marv.

And since he was the one
pouring the drinks,

he could have very easily drugged
him with one of those poisons.

I don't know.

I mean, I don't even know
if Marv drank last night.

Of course, Marv drank last
night. Marv drank every night.

But last night, you laced
his glass with tricyclics.

I did not.

But he had a huge
amount in his system.

I don't...
Because you gave it to him.

No, I didn't.
Well, then, who did?

I don't... I don't know.
You do.

No.
Yeah. You do.

No.
You did.

No.
Yes, you did.

Because you gave it to him.
Just admit it. You killed Marv.

No, he didn't.

He killed him,
Birdie. For you.

My Chet didn't.
He couldn't.

He could
and he did.

I did not.

Chet, Marv didn't kill himself.

You said it yourself. He was
an egotistical piece of crap.

He would have killed you or
Birdie before he killed himself.

For God's sakes, the
man murdered two people

and that's why
you had to stop him.

I want to talk to Birdie. I
need to go see her right now.

Chet! Chet! Chet.
Birdie is busy.

She's busy telling
us all about you.

No, she's not.
Do you want to bet?

Yes.

Come here, Chet.
Look at her.

Look at her. Look at her
talking to Detective Stabler.

Come over here
and look at her.

Because she's
telling us everything.

She's telling us
how much you love her.

She's telling us how
much you protect her. No.

And she is telling us
how freaked out you were

when Marv lost her.
I want to go.

I know you do.
Can I go now?

I know you do. I want
to go. Please let me go.

I know you want
to go home.

But you had to kill Marv or he
was going to hurt your soul mate.

And that's why you
drugged Marv's drink.

That's why you pushed him
out the window. Look at her.

Birdie's telling us the whole
story. Every single detail.

No. I didn't do it. I didn't kill
him. She... She... She killed him.

She did it.

Chet? Chet, it's okay.
Calm down.

Try to relax.
Chet, stop it. Stop it.

Calm down.

Chet, look at me.
Just tell me what happened.

I had already made the
martinis when Marv came home.

And I always give
Birdie her martini first.

So I brought it in to her.

And she asked me
to go to the closet

to get back down
her old movies.

Because she likes to
watch them when she's sad.

And when you came back?

And that's when
I saw it.

There was a pill bottle
by the martinis.

But I had no idea
what she was going to do.

So I gave her her martini.

And then I went to his
room and I gave him his.

And that's when he went into
the office. To surf porn.

No, I lied about that. He was
getting money out of his safe.

And he was
getting these documents

and he was stuffing
them in a duffel bag.

So I told Birdie that
he was going to leave.

And then they
started arguing.

Like, really bad arguing.

Okay. And where were you?

I was in my room. And I
could hear them yelling,

and then Marv
just stopped.

He stopped yelling.

And I came out and the
window was wide open.

But I didn't do it.
She did it.

Birdie did it.

What? I never touched Marv's drink.

Well, Chet says you did.

And your fingerprints are on his
martini glass and his pill bottle.

He would never say
anything like that.

My Chet would not
cross his Aunt Birdie.

Well, Bridget Sulloway, you
have the right to remain silent.

Now, if you give up that right,

anything you say can and
will be used... Where's Chet?

...against you in
a court of law. Stand up.

Bring him to me.

Chet.

I didn't want to tell them.
They made me do it.

We all do what
we have to, dear.

"Docket ending 6126.

"People of the State of New
York v. Bridget Sulloway.

"One count Murder in
the Second Degree. "

How does the defendant plead?

Not guilty, Your Honor.

Request for remand,
Ms. Cabot?

$500,000 dollars.

Fifty. My client
is an elderly woman

who poses no flight...
Well, just a minute.

I am not elderly.
And I will pay it.

Ma'am, any comments must be
made through your attorney.

I will not have him
argue over money.

It's vulgar.
Chet, hand me my checkbook.

I'll get it. Every penny.

We'll pursue an affirmative
defense, Your Honor.

Extreme
emotional disturbance.

In addition to
murdering two people,

Mrs. Sulloway's husband tormented
her physically and mentally.

Do you have any more
than just her say so?

Medical reports?
Pictures of bruises?

No. But she did describe
the abuse to Detective Benson

just prior to
Mr. Sulloway's demise.

It sounds like
she was teeing up

her excuse before
offing the poor guy.

The same poor guy
the police said

stalked and
murdered Tisa Flores?

My client was
in mortal terror.

Convince the jury,
Mr. Stannich.

Not this courtroom.
I'll allow the defense.

Ms. Cabot.
Fire up your shrink.

Hello, Mrs. Sulloway.
I'm Dr. Huang.

I know.

That's right.
You don't like doctors.

It's not that I
don't like them.

I just find you useless. You
know, it's very cold in here.

It makes my bones hurt.

Do you think maybe
you could turn up the heat?

Or is all this part of
your little interrogation?

It's not an interrogation.
It's a psychiatric assessment.

Assess.

Tell me about your husband.

What's there to say?
He's dead.

Well, you don't seem
very upset about that.

Marv was a bastard.
I've known a few.

Were you scared of him?

Well, of course.
He murdered a girl.

But you didn't know
about that until afterwards.

No. What I mean is, it didn't
surprise me. Marv was a hateful man.

He was always
pushing me around.

But you never
tried to leave him.

No. No. Chet was with me. He
was always very protective.

Where's Chet now?

Chet and I are estranged.

And wasn't it Chet who told the
police that you drugged Mr. Sulloway?

He was scared.

Of Mr. Sulloway.

Well, who else
are we talking about?

Is there another
chair around here?

Out there, somewhere?
This is horrible.

Okay. Let's talk about the
night that your husband died.

You know what?
Let's not.

Look. We both know
where this is supposed to go.

You come in here playing the
good doctor with your tests

and your questions
and your fake concern.

And I play
the terrified wife,

cowering in the corner, saying
she just couldn't take it anymore.

And that's not who you are.

No. I was terrified.

Marv would have murdered me
if I hadn't done what I did.

But Birdie Sulloway
does not cower.

So, why don't you
take your little

assessment back
to your bosses,

and get me the hell
out of this awful room?

Nice work. She all but
admitted the EED was a sham.

Technically, yes. But I think
she has some serious problems.

Mental ones?

Enough to
derail your case.

She shows signs of
a neurological disorder.

The body stiffness,
the twitching of the eye,

the loss of fine motor
control in the hands.

Since when do you
work for the defense?

I have a responsibility
as a physician.

The woman needs to
be tested immediately.

Well, good luck convincing
her. She hates doctors.

A lot of people do.
Until they truly need one.

Especially if it's a choice
between a non-invasive PET scan

or being convicted at trial.

As I suspected,
paraneoplastic syndrome.

The cancer probably
started in her right lung

and then moved to
her other organs.

Cancer? How is that neurological?

Certain tumors
secrete hormones

that can cause
unbalanced behavior.

Prognosis?

Even with
aggressive chemotherapy,

four or five months
at the most.

Which Dwight
Stannich will fill

with motions
and continuances,

and Birdie will
never see trial.

The case dies with her.

God gave her
the death penalty,

even if the State
of New York couldn't.

How many?

Over a dozen
malignant tumors.

Well, I guess
it's too late, then.

At this point, the treatment
options are limited.

Well, now, you know why
I never liked doctors.

I'm sorry.

Well, no one ever
said life was fair.

Only eventful.

Mrs. Sulloway,
if you ever need anything...

Can I ask you something?

Of course.

What do you think happens

when this old circus folds
its tents and moves on?

Is there another town
on the other side,

or is it all just
a lot of nothing?

Those kinds of questions
aren't exactly my specialty.

Yeah,
I've just been wondering

ever since my third
husband passed away.

Philip. He died in my arms,
and, you know,

I saw the light
go out in his eyes.

It made me curious as to what
it was he was seeing. You know?

You're not buying this,
are you?

Birdie told me that Philip
was swept off their yacht.

So how could she have seen
the light go out in his eyes?

Well, Huang says the cancer's
made her cuckoo.

Maybe she was confused.

Or maybe Marv
wasn't her first victim.

Philip Goldberg.

Lost at sea.
His new bride, Birdie.

Accidental overdose. Slipped
and fell down the stairs.

Brake failure. And, of
course, Marv was a suicide.

Now, you add these up,
you've got a killing spree

that spreads out
over 40 years.

That's why no one
ever put it together.

Birdie said that she only had
a talent for attracting bad men.

Well, it looks like she had
another one. Getting rid of them.

So we're thinking
black widow.

No, insurance companies

made payouts on the first
four, but they were modest.

I think the real story here is
that each one of her husbands

had some kind of rap sheet, from
cocaine trafficking, child pornography,

embezzling, rape and murder.

From little orphan ballerina to
Dirty Harriet in five easy steps.

Yes. I killed all of them.

No, no. Birdie,
not another word.

Detectives, we all know my
client is in failing health.

And this includes
her mental faculties.

Dwight, please.

I already have a death
sentence, and besides,

I'm happy with
what I've achieved.

Murder is an achievement?

I rid the world of
five horrible men.

Would you rather
they still be alive?

Well, what about
due process?

I prefer justice.

Well, in your case,
it's been served.

Has it? Or is there another
murderer out there, free as a bird?

You're lying.

Why don't you go back and
check those insurance reports?

I was two states away when
Ray fell down those stairs.

And do you really
think a little old lady

would know which cable
to cut under Walter's car?

Or could it have
been a young man

who would do
anything in the world

his aunt asked him to?

Aunt Birdie?

Chet, you came.

Of course I came.

The minute you
left the message.

You're going to
be okay, right?

Please tell me
you're going to be okay.

Not this time,
sweetheart. No.

But I'm better now.

I'm so sorry I told the
police and then I ran away.

You're here now.
And you're safe.

What about the court case?

It's too late for that.

It's too late for everything, except us.

I was so scared you were
going to be mad at me.

At you? Impossible.

No. I'm just happy you're
not mad at your old Birdie.

Why?

For what I made you do. Helping
me with Marv and all the others.

You didn't make me
do those things.

I wanted to help.
I would do it again.

Don't say that.

But I would.

I'd push 10 more
of those bastards

out the window if
you asked me to.

That's my Chet. The only
one who ever really loved me.

I only wish we had the chance
to be together one last time.

What do you mean?
There's still time.

No, no. No. No, darling, there's not.

You see, you're
going on a little trip.

Why? Why?

Thirty years at
your Aunt Birdie's side

and you never learned
not to cross her.

No. No, no, no.

No.

We all do
what we have to.