Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (1999–…): Season 4, Episode 16 - Tortured - 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.

We're good to go.

Damn it.

I got to take this.

Make a sound,
and I'll cut your balls off.

Hi, sweetie.
What's wrong?



What the hell?

Mommy will be home soon.

Wake the sitter and have her
give you some cough medicine.

Mmm-hmm.
Where does it hurt?

Hey, can I get
my money back?

Oh, no. Your tummy
hurts you, too?

Screw you.

I'll be home... I can
find a hotter piece of ass

with a lot less baggage.

Oh, my God.

My partner and I were patrolling a
block away when we heard screaming.

You heard the attack?

No, no. The discovery.

Tough guy in the parka.



I didn't see anything.

Sexually posed,
put on display.

Our boy wants to read
about this in the paper.

Ligature marks
around the neck.

No other apparent wounds.

Except for the skirt.

Wasn't short enough for
somebody. It's been cut off.

We got blood on the boot.
Maybe she got a piece of him.

I'll grab
an evidence bag.

Liv. I don't think
the blood's our perp's.

It's hers.

Guys, anyone find
a severed foot?

Stump's pretty
chewed up.

Sawed off, as opposed to one good hack.

Perp used a saw?

Blade wasn't that thick,
but it was serrated.

Based on the hesitation marks,
I'd say two millimeter width.

It's your garden-variety
kitchen knife.

Probably upper-end.
See the impression here?

It's from the hilt guard.

Only your better
knives have them.

He chop her pre
or post-mortem?

No bruising, minimal clotting,
so she was already dead

as a result of
ligature strangulation.

Yeah, now that looks too thin
to be a belt or a rope.

Wire. He thoughtfully
used enough force

to show me that
it was braided.

Ten threads,
12 or 14 gauge.

Can you be a little bit
more specific?

It left no visible residue, but if we
get a reaction with rubionic acid...

It was copper.

Well, she was found
in the red light district.

If she was on the stroll,
we've probably got her prints.

No hits.

Also, no STDs
or cervical dysplasia.

She probably
wasn't a pro.

So, all we have is
Asian, mid-twenties.

With a painful past.

I found healed burn marks
on the genitals.

We've seen that
before. Cigarettes?

More conducive with
an electro-shock device.

And then there's this.

See the nine metacarpal bones,
making up the wrist?

Hers are disrupted.

She also has old tears
to her rotator cuffs.

She was hung by her wrists.

And tortured.

Are we thinking the guy
who tortured her in the past

finished the job last night?

Well, those scars are
a couple of years old.

That's a pretty big gap
between the attacks.

Assuming the first go-around
was an attack.

They sure as hell
weren't self-inflicted.

Nothing with
Missing Persons yet.

Restraints, painful game of shock
the kitty. Smacks of S&M to me.

I know one woman's pain
can be another man's pleasure,

but this girl was not
spanked to death.

Say she hooks up
with a guy.

She's down with
the whips and chains,

but she bolts when he
revs up the cattle prod.

I don't know. George,
bondageldiscipline track for you?

These old scars
are political torture.

Where do you get that?

They're trademark techniques used by
the Chinese military occupying Tibet.

I'd say she was Tibetan.

Meaning that she had
the audacity to support

the Dalai Lama
or an independent Tibet.

Maybe she was a nun. I understand
they're a favorite target.

Right, Agent Huang?

According to Physicians for Human
Rights, of which I'm a member.

Maybe cutting off
the foot was a message.

Could a torturer have
followed her here?

Anything's possible.

All right, then maybe she
came seeking political asylum.

Check with the INS.

Do you have any idea how
many immigrants we get a year?

We're really only
interested in one.

A million, 10% of whom
claim to be political refugees.

But then there's the million and a
half who try to sneak in illegally.

Gee, it's almost like someone
hung out a sign, welcoming

your tired, your poor, your
huddled masses, and then they...

Hey, we got a hit.

Kunsong Tashi.
Huang was right.

Birthplace, Tibet.

Was she granted
political asylum?

Never applied. She got in on a marriage visa.

So there's a husband in the
picture. What's his name?

Preston Bennett.

How did
you two meet?

At the bazaar
at Dharamsala.

I found a 10th century
stone Vishnu,

but the merchant
spoke no English.

Kunsong was walking by,
and she interpreted for us.

And your relationship now
was still strong?

We never fought,
not once.

Mr. Bennett, I got to tell
you, I find it awfully odd

that you didn't
report her missing.

I assumed she was
at the Center.

Which center is that?

It's a program at Bellevue
for torture survivors.

She was tortured
in Tibet?

Yes. For attending
a demonstration.

The police came,
rounded everyone up.

They kept her a month.

This center
that you mentioned,

was she having trouble
with anybody there?

No, it was a godsend.

We found it when
she first got here.

It helped her so much,
now she volunteers there.

Was she in the habit of
staying there all night?

She was there
constantly.

She had group therapy,
she interpreted.

And whenever a new survivor entered
the program, she'd sit with them.

All night?

Sometimes.

Without calling?

Yes.

I'm not buying it.

Kathy didn't come home
all night,

I'd be out
looking for her.

That's you.
That's everybody.

That's bull.

How many times have
we been working on a case

and Kathy doesn't
hear from you?

That's different.
I'm on the job.

Well, according to her
husband, so was Kunsong.

She'd spend hours listening
to victims' horror stories,

even though
it usually meant

opening up old wounds of her own.

We saw the scars.

They don't begin
to tell the story.

In prison, she was
stripped naked,

held in a small cage for days without
food, and beaten around the clock.

As if the taser to the
genitals wasn't enough.

Electro-shock batons
are a favorite.

Not only is
the pain unbearable,

they don't leave
physical scars.

They did on Kunsong.

Only because the guard
raping her got careless

and exceeded
the mandated voltage.

Our Tibetan support group
is about to start.

They wanted to
have a memorial.

This was Kunsong's group?

Yes.
They consider her family.

She made this for them.

Group meet yesterday?

No. But she was here
in the afternoon,

helping to translate
affidavits for asylum.

She left around 5:00.
Alone?

Yes. I wish I had asked
her where she was going.

What do you know
about her husband?

There was no marital discord.

Really?

It's hard to believe that
somebody who went through

what Kunsong did would have
an easy time in a relationship.

Preston cared
about her deeply.

If anything, he was
overly protective.

Who did Kunsong
need protection from?

Attention, everyone.

We'll be starting in
just a minute, okay?

Who did Kunsong
need protection from?

You have to understand,

the purpose of torture
is to break a person's will

and destroy their humanity.

Some degree of paranoia
is not uncommon.

Well, seeing how
Kunsong died,

maybe her fears
weren't all in her head.

Nearly half a million
survivors of torture

have relocated to the U. S.

There's no telling how many of
their tormentors have followed suit.

Did she mention
any run-ins?

No, but she had become
more of an activist recently.

How so?

A fellow survivor from group,
Detchen Gyatso,

took her to her first protest
just last week.

Is Detchen here?

No, but I know where
you can find her.

Freedom for Tibet!

I'd say
she's our organizer.

Freedom for Tibet!

Freedom for Tibet!

Freedom for...
Detchen Gyatso?

We have a right
to be here.

We're not blocking traffic

and we're not obstructing China's
corrupt, oppressive regime.

Hey, hey,
more power to you.

What do you want?

Want to talk to you
about Kunsong.

I understand she started fighting
the good fight just last week.

Was it right out here
in front of the consulate?

No, a brokerage firm.

Myer Miller's.

A new stock offering is funding
a pipeline through Tibet.

But we are hurting them.

The parent company has already reduced
their U. S. Sale from seven to five billion.

I've seen men killed
for a pizza.

Billions at stake?
That's motive for murder.

Anybody roughed up
at last week's soiree?

We're talking Times Square,
not Tiananmen.

Not even an idle threat?

Jerks didn't even call the
cops. No arrests, no ink.

Only person taken away
all day was Kunsong.

By whom?

Her husband.

He showed up,
pulled her out of line.

He was yelling,
she was crying.

She didn't get to
finish the protest.

As I recall, the husband
stated they'd never fight.

Wonder what his little
demonstration was all about.

Freedom for Tibet!

Freedom for...

Well?

It wasn't a fight.

You dragged your wife away in tears
in front of a hundred witnesses.

A week before her murder.

You don't understand. Oh, we
understand that you lied to us.

I was just trying
to protect her.

Yeah? From what? Facing
her fears, or moving on?

The more independent she grew,
the less control you had?

It was too soon.

To get on with her life?

We were at the end of our three-year
probation period with the INS.

If she had been arrested, she could
have been deported back to hell.

Dug up something
on your boy here.

Turns out he has
a history with us.

What? I've never been
arrested in my life.

No. But a patrol car responded
to a 911 call at your residence.

What was that?
Another fight you never had?

A neighbor misinterpreted
something he heard.

Kunsong screaming bloody murder
in the middle of the night.

On a regular basis.

How's that open
to interpretation?

She had nightmares!

She tried everything, even
sleeping upright in a chair.

Still, she'd wake up thinking
she was back in Tibet.

The nightmares were so real,

even with me holding her,
she couldn't stop screaming.

Well, someone shut her up.

With a wire across
her vocal chords.

I'm a Buddhist,
for God's sake.

I could never take a life.

That's funny. I talked to the
neighbor that reported you.

I guess you forgot
your pacifist crap

when you threatened him
the next day.

Do you have any idea
how much trauma he caused her?

By calling the police?

Two men in uniform, showing up
in the middle of the night,

that's how nightmares begin
where she's from.

And unless this is a police state,
too, I assume I'm free to leave.

He's lying.

Husband
is a broken record.

Every problem we find
in their marriage,

he explains away with
his wife's horrible past.

He may lie,
but paper trails don't.

He take out an insurance policy on Kunsong?

There's nothing.
As far as I can tell,

he's not making a penny
from her death.

How we doing on
shaking his alibi?

Claims he was home alone. I haven't
found a soul to confirm that.

You pull his LUDs?

Night of the murder,
not a single call.

Of course not.
He wasn't there.

Well, it doesn't
prove he wasn't.

Well, this does. I pulled
Preston's financials.

There's a charge on his
corporate card at 6:00 that night.

Where?
A place called Hello Dalai.

What is that?
I've been there.

It's a little Tibetan
restaurant in the Village.

You recognize
Mr. Bennett?

Sure. He and his wife
are regulars.

When was the last time
you saw him?

He hasn't been here
in a couple of weeks.

According to his credit card
company, he was here last Tuesday.

You've got it backwards.
His wife was, he wasn't.

You sure about that?

Positive. It was before
the dinner rush.

They were the only ones
in here.

They?

She was with a gentleman.
Describe him.

Brown hair, thirtyish.

Scars, tattoos,
anything unusual?

Perfect tan in February kind of
stood out. That and his hefty tip.

Wait a minute. That was
her husband's card,

so she would've had
to sign for the meal.

No, I'm sure he signed.

Think you still
got that receipt?

I'll check.

Husband's definitely
got motive now.

Not only was she
cheating on him,

she was using his money
to wine and dine her lover.

Guy's sure got
a set on him.

Signing the husband's card?
That's cold.

I'm the manager.
Is there a problem?

Well, for starters,
a case of identity theft.

Someone other than Mr. Bennett
signed a receipt Tuesday night.

You mean Mr. Chambers.

He's an authorized signer
on that card.

Who the hell's Mr. Chambers?

Mr. Bennett's partner.

He's the "C"
in B & C Importers.

Mr. Bennett's
business partner.

The triangle thickens.

Ryan Chambers?
Yes.

Like to talk to you
about Kunsong Bennett.

Do you mind
if we come in?

This really isn't
a good time.

Well, you know,
for us, either.

We would've preferred to talk to
you the day her body was discovered.

But at the time, we hadn't yet heard
about your torrid little affair.

What are you talking about?

Preston know
you were banging his wife?

I doubt it,
since I wasn't.

You got a sense of humor.
That's good.

That'll serve you well
in prison.

What?

You were the last person
who saw her alive.

You're going to need
to come with us.

That won't be necessary.

So the marriage was a sham.

Did Kunsong know?

Of course she did.

But we really did
care for each other.

That's why I married her. It was
the only way to bring her here.

You cared so much,

why have you been obstructing
her murder investigation?

I panicked.

You have to understand. I
violated federal immigration laws.

The INS could
put him in prison.

Not to mention
take away our business.

You don't want us
to fill them in,

then I suggest you tell us
what happened that night.

If I had any information about
her killer, I would have told you.

What happened at dinner?

Nothing.
We had a quick bite,

went our separate ways. I came
home and Preston was already here.

It was a bury-the-hatchet
dinner.

You and Kunsong
had problems?

She was very sweet, but it
was going on three years.

It was putting a strain
on our relationship.

Which she sensed.

That's why she moved out.

She what?

We put the apartment
in my name,

so the INS
wouldn't find out.

How's it going, guys?

No sign of blood.

No sign of a struggle.

Not much to disturb.

Free Tibet. She was
disturbing someone.

Got a notepad.
Yeah?

Nothing. Just a grocery list.

Bag it.

You have no messages.

Guess she wasn't real popular. Classifieds.

She was looking
to buy used furniture.

She needed it.

She had two stars by a
floral, shabby-chic couch.

She was going
to see this one.

The day she died.

She called. I told her
to come by after 6:00.

I was here all night,
she never showed.

She was having dinner
four blocks from here.

It would've been
right on her way.

I don't know
what to tell you.

This is not the couch
in your ad.

I sold it.
To whom?

Some sorority chick. I don't know,
Buffy, Cindy, something like that.

She paid cash.

Mostly women
answer your ad?

Yeah.

You don't strike me as a
floral, shabby-chic kind of guy.

I'm not. That's why I sold
it. It belonged to my ex.

Now, why would she
leave a catch like you?

'Cause she's a whore.
And she found a fatter wallet.

That knife collection hers?

That worthless bitch
couldn't boil water.

Those are mine.

It's a perfect scam.

I mean, how many other ways
do you get women

to walk voluntarily into
a complete stranger's home?

Big bang for the buck.
Classifieds are, what, $5 a line?

Do we even know
this couch existed?

We're trying to
track down the ex.

What do we have
on this guy?

Paulie Obregano. Two drunk and
disorderlies, but that was awhile ago.

Well, if he's
a mean drunk,

his wife leaving would
give him an ax to grind.

Against a pretty
little ankle bone.

Yeah, he had the carving knives to do it.

Benson, SVU.

It's all circumstantial.

We're gonna need a lot more than
that to get a search warrant.

That was the lab. They already
have something on the boots.

What've we got?
DNA? Prints?

No. But something's
definitely afoot.

These are a size nine.

I checked to make sure
it wasn't mismarked.

Why?

Well, the victim's foot measured
nine and three sixteenths inches.

That would make her
a size six and a half.

She was wearing shoes
two and a half sizes too big?

Hold on, these are Jacques Le
Corre. These are $700 boots.

I mean, maybe
they were on sale, but...

Wouldn't that be
really uncomfortable?

Only if she bought these boots
for walking, which she never did.

They've got
wear marks right here.

Not where
they should be.

These roll to the outside.

According to the autopsy
report, she was pigeon-toed.

These weren't her boots.

Some Prince Charming slipped
one of your shoes on our victim.

Is there any kind
of hidden lot number

that could tell us where
that shoe was purchased?

Sorry, no.

Surely you must have some way
of tracking your inventory.

That would be
on the shoebox.

Well, how many stores
are we talking about?

We're only carried
by the most exclusive.

Of course, given their multiple
chain locations in the tri-state area,

about a thousand.

Every store carry
every design?

Every buyer carries shoes that
appeal to their store's demographics.

Who stocks this one?

No one.

It's a prototype. It's not due
to hit shelves for another month.

Who had access to it?

Laurie Schneider
reps that account.

Could you point us her way?

And go.

Okay, that's my last model for
this run. I've got two minutes.

What can I tell you
about the Bellanobla model?

You know about a pair
walking off by themselves?

Size nine.

Crystal's our only
model that size.

She wore them
in a show last month.

Models get to keep
everything else in life.

They get to keep
the shoes, too?

They're not
supposed to, but...

Where can we find her?

Milan.

How can we contact her there?

Is that really necessary?

Did we mention that this is
a murder investigation?

Okay, she didn't
take them, I did.

For what I thought
was a hot date.

What, he knock
your boots off?

Trust me, this loser didn't
touch anything of mine.

You know where he took me?

The Rock 'n' Roll Bowl.
Very trendy.

It's a bowling alley.

And just when I thought
it couldn't get any worse,

my boots disappeared.

Somebody jacked the boots?

Yes. It was
20 degrees outside.

I had to ride home
in my stocking feet.

At least you got to keep
both of yours.

The next woman
wasn't so lucky.

Yeah, I remember her. She was
really unhappy with her date.

Totally hitting on me.

Really? Now, was that here
at the counter, or did she

lure you down
to her lane?

No, no. I was working
concessions that night.

I delivered several
pitchers of beer to the lady.

How often do shoes
get stolen from here?

Hey, Jerry, we got a pin stuck
on lane 17. You wanna get on that?

Hey, Marshall, you didn't
answer the question.

Lots of shoes go missing
on your watch?

Well, no, they don't go
missing that often. But...

I mean, we get kids
playing pranks and stuff.

But between you and me, I
mean, that lady was so toasted

she probably dropped them
down the ball return.

Hey, buddy, buddy,

what's it like working
for Marshall the Kingpin?

I hate that guy.

You hate him?

He annoy the customers
as much as he annoys you?

Yeah, he hits on every girl that
walks through that door. It's pathetic.

Oh, really?

I'm guessing he sees
a lot of rejection.

Nothing but.
He never gets anywhere.

Well, aside from
this bad habit

of harassing women,
you ever see him

taking things that
don't belong to him?

I wouldn't put it past him.

Yeah, go ahead.

Okay, any record of bowling-alley
guy crossing the foul line?

He's clean.

He's young. Maybe he hasn't been caught yet.

Or maybe he hasn't
been reported yet.

I mean, who's going to
go to all the trouble

of reporting a pair
of stolen shoes?

You'd be surprised.
I pulled 61s on all crimes

where shoes came into play
in any way.

What, every pin
is a stolen shoe?

Not necessarily.

All the red pins represent the
robberies and the B and E's.

It doesn't make sense. I mean,
why break in and just take shoes?

Because you got
a shoe fetish.

It's a sexual philia where

arousal is triggered by shoes,
feet, or even smelly socks.

That's one
I've never gotten.

There are
plenty of theories.

It could just be
cross-wiring.

In the control map
of the brain,

the genitals are
right next to the feet.

More importantly, are any of these
break-ins near the bowling alley?

The Rock 'n' Roll Bowl is here
in one of the least hit areas.

He have any connection
to the Village?

'Cause that's our
heaviest concentration.

No. But Paulie,
the couch guy, does.

He lives at

462 East Houston.

That's dead in the middle.

What's the green pin?

Physical assault.
Really?

Shoe fetishism isn't
usually a violent paraphilia.

An NYU graduate student,
Greta Thorsen,

two weeks ago, was choked
into unconsciousness.

And when she woke up,
her shoes were gone.

She give a description? Couldn't.

Pull Paulie's driver's license
photo. Throw it into a photo array,

see if it jogs a memory.

I don't know
what else I can tell you.

But I'm going to be
late for class.

Those are nice
running shoes.

I'm 5'1", but no one knew I was
short because I used to live in heels.

Now I'm afraid to wear them.

Is that since
the attack?

That bastard took
three inches off my life.

I'm not even
the same person.

I promise, helping us
is going to help you.

Now, tell us
everything you know.

It was dark.

I didn't see anyone around.
I was almost to my dorm.

All of a sudden there were
hands around my throat.

Do you recognize
any of these men?

I told you, he came up from
behind me. I never saw his face.

Did he press up against you?

I tried to pull away.
He jerked me back.

My head hit his chin.

You're 5'4" with heels.
That would make him between

5'8"and 5'10".

Can you walk us
through that day?

I was in classes
all day long

with about a million
other students.

Did you go off campus?

Just to the bakery
at Houston and Sullivan.

I was on my way back from
there when it happened.

I got to go.

Paulie lives on Houston.

Two blocks away.

Greta hasn't been in, in a few weeks.

But she used to come in at
night to stock up on muffins.

She hates
that dorm food.

Do you know this much
about all of your customers?

It's a real
neighborhood bakery.

I know just about everybody
in a ten-block radius.

By order, mind you,
not necessarily by name.

This girl's name
is Kunsong.

No.

No, I don't think
she's been in here.

How many employees
do you have working here?

Just Michael and Rodney.
But they're good guys.

And who's this?
Brendan.

No. You'll ruin your appetite. He's my boy.

Any of these men customers?

This one.

That's pumpernickel
and olive loaf.

You've got your mom's
good memory.

Do either one of you remember

if he came in here
on the night of January 15th?

Two weeks ago? Well, no,
that I can't tell you.

But he is a regular.

Seriously, how long you
gonna keep jamming me up here?

I don't know, Paulie.
That's up to you.

How would it help?

Louder or slower?
I didn't do anything.

We've got a murdered girl.

Our medical examiner
places her time of death

smack dab in the period

she was scheduled
to be in your apartment.

Coincidence.

We've got another girl,
attacked two weeks ago

after leaving one of
your favorite haunts.

Where? Bakery, two blocks
from your apartment.

You know how many
people go in there?

That place is
always crammed.

Well, we also have a slew

of very peculiar burglaries
in your neighborhood.

This is unbelievable.

My thieving whore of an ex robs me blind,

and you accuse me
of stealing?

What do I gotta do
to prove to you

I've got nothing
to do with this?

Let us search
your apartment.

Fine.

So what did we get?

Nothing indicating Kunsong ever
set foot in Paulie's apartment.

We dusted floor to ceiling,
vacuumed the carpet.

Not a matching print,
hair or fiber.

What about
the knives?

No blood. There,
or in any of his drains.

Well, they told us
that you found something.

In her apartment,
not his.

Detectives,
remember the notepad

you picked up
by the victim's phone?

The one with the grocery list on it, yeah.

You find something else there? Nothing yet.

But the Electrostatic Detection
Apparatus can recover indented

writing three, even four
pages, beneath the original.

Now, we vacuum lock it
to the plate

and subject it to a
high-voltage static charge.

Giving us a variably
charged surface

with the heavier static charge
remaining in any impressions,

which will attract this toner.

Which should give us
a carbon copy of the original.

Yep.

Just like this.

Does "Couch, 642 East Houston,
apartment 2A,

"after 6:00" mean
anything to you?

Damn it, that's
Paulie's home address.

No, it isn't.

His is 462.

She inverted the numbers.

Well,
who the hell lives there?

It's right next door
to the bakery.

It's leading to
the apartment upstairs.

Hey, Detectives.

You're just in time
for fresh banana bread.

That sounds great.

Listen, can you tell us
who lives above the bakery?

I do.

Well, you didn't recognize her as a customer.

Maybe she came by that day
looking for used furniture?

Well, I don't know why she
would. I wasn't selling any.

Well, is there
a Mr. Krug?

Somewhere.

So it's just you
and your son Brendan?

And his half-brother.

My son from my
first marriage. Jerry.

Hey, Jerry,
come out here, please.

What, Ma?

Sorry to keep you
waiting, Jerry.

We did a very thorough search of your room.

We found
your secret stash.

You had no right
to touch my things.

Your things?
These aren't your things.

We've already
tied half of them

to burglaries in
your neighborhood.

We talked
to your mom.

She said that she found you wearing
a pair like this when you were five.

I'm not gay.

I just like the way
that they look.

On women. So I collect them. It's harmless.

It's harmless?

What happened to the college
student who was wearing these?

You nearly
choked her to death.

I don't know.

You followed her
from the bakery.

Just to see where she lived,

so that I could go
get them later.

Look, I swear, I swear,

this is the first time
that I ever hurt anybody.

But not the last.

Her name is Kunsong.

We found her blood
in your mom's delivery van.

We know that you used
that van to dump her body.

We also know

that she came to your apartment by accident,

looking to buy a couch.

Does that help?

She was like something
out of my dreams.

So I invited her in.

She just had the most
perfect, tiny feet.

All I did was compliment her.

Things were going
really well, too,

until she asked
where the couch was.

All right. And so then
what happened?

She ran for the door.

I stopped her.

I asked her to try on
a pair of shoes for me.

She told me I was sick.

I snapped.

You didn't mean to kill her.

No. No, no. One minute,
I'm sitting at home alone

fixing the TV, and the next
minute, there's a dead girl.

You were rewiring your TV?

Yeah.

You use copper wire
for that, right?

We found the knife
that you used on her foot,

back in your mom's bakery.

It was nice of you
to bring it back.

Jerry...

Why did you cut
her foot off?

For my collection.

They just looked...

They just looked better
with a real foot.

We need to serve
the motions to Talbot

and pull the statements on
the Simpson and Powell cases.

Oh, Alex, yoo-hoo.
Hi, Gina.

I'll see you back at the office. All right.

Hi.

Nice shoes.

Thanks.
I hate them, too.

But more importantly, so does
Jerry Dupree, my shoe fetishist.

It's the only way I can
get him to concentrate

on the matter at hand
and not on my feet.

You're prosecuting,
right?

You know I am, Gina. You've
served me with enough motions.

Right.
I've got a few more.

You saved me a trip.

I don't want to wear out these puppies.

Request for
a 7:30 hearing.

Psych eval.
Very original.

Thanks. IQ and physical

and neurological.

What, no proctologist?

No, not this time.

Gina, you and I both know any
affirmative defense you come up with

is going to be
a load of crap.

Dr. Shelton,

what exactly does the
brain's frontal lobe do?

It controls emotions, urges,

knowledge of
right and wrong.

Basically, it's our
impulse control center.

So...

Say I had the urge to
call opposing counsel

an uptight, self-righteous, little bitch,

my frontal lobe knows that means
sanctions and it keeps my mouth shut?

Yes. It imposes
appropriate inhibitions.

Did you conduct a series of
neurological tests on Jerry Dupree?

I did.

Is...

Is there anything
wrong there?

I found evidence of a recent
subdural hematoma right there.

Here?
Yes.

It's a benign
mass of blood,

putting pressure
on his frontal lobe.

My God.
What does that mean?

Well, anyone who's
read my book knows

it can produce radical
personality changes.

I have well-documented
cases linking it

to violence and a predisposition
to criminal behavior.

So, damaging
your frontal lobe

is like somebody cutting
the brakes to your car.

There is no way
to stop yourself.

That's one way
of putting it.

Now, if you'll flip
to his PET scan.

Thank you.

The one on the top is a
normal functioning brain.

The red indicates
increased brain metabolism,

a sign of high
brain activity.

The one
on the bottom is Jerry's.

Why is his so blue?

It illustrates decreased
frontal brain activity,

resulting from atrophy
due to his injury.

So

would this explain
a previously meek,

gentle person
suddenly turning violent?

Absolutely.

It disinhibits and,
in extreme cases,

renders one virtually incapable
of controlling one's urges.

Dr. Shelton, are you saying
that everyone who suffers

a blow to the frontal lobe
will kill?

No, of course not.

There are numerous cases
in the history of brain...

Thank you.

You've offered a very
provocative theory.

What it lacks in substance it
makes up for in pretty colors.

I've studied the criminal
brain for the past 20 years.

The most vicious
were overwhelmingly

those with a combination
of abusive childhoods,

psychotic symptoms
and brain injuries.

How many people
participated in your study?

One hundred
and eighty-seven.

And how many people suffer
brain injuries in a given year?

I don't have
the exact number.

The number is 500,000.

That's a half a million
predominately law-abiding citizens.

Pretty much dwarfs your
little study, wouldn't you say?

My study included some of your
most infamous serial killers,

including Bundy,
Dahmer, Shawcross,

Mark David Chapman,
Joel Rifkin...

And now Jerry Dupree.

Thank you, Doctor.
No further questions.

He was
the best little boy.

Never gave me
any trouble.

Even when his father died,

or when his stepfather
left us, he stayed sweet.

He never fought,
he never cursed.

Was there a time
when that changed?

In January.

What happened then?

My bakery was robbed.

A crazed man came in,
waving a hammer.

He told me that
he would kill me

if I didn't give him all
the money in the register.

Now, was Jerry
present at this time?

No, no. The man
started yelling,

and that's when Jerry heard
him all the way upstairs.

And what did he do?

He came to my rescue.

He tried to pull the weapon
from the man, but...

He got him,

right in the head.

Struck him in the head.

Your Honor, I'd like to
submit into evidence

Defense exhibits 21,

the police report
of the robbery,

and 22, hospital records
of Jerry's concussion.

So entered.

Now, how long after this did you
notice a change in Jerry's personality?

Immediately. He had
headaches all the time.

He would burst into fits of
anger at the least little thing.

And he started swearing.

And you are
absolutely positive

that this did not occur
until after the attack?

Yes.

My son is not the same person.
But that is not his fault.

The man who hurt him should
be on trial for this murder,

not Jerry. He was...

He was protecting
his mother.

She has them believing
Jerry's a hero.

Well, the robbery case
is still open.

No leads on the perp. But the
mother did file a report that day.

Brain injury's
legitimate, too.

But not as an excuse.
Just look at our victim.

Kunsong endured every abuse
imaginable, and she never hurt a soul.

It is a pretty
sick irony.

She survives hell
only to meet Jerry.

Who's apparently
a bit of a klutz.

What do you mean?

Gina's expert concentrated on the
functional damage, proving the injury,

but there's numerous indications
here of structural damage.

Are you saying he's been
hit in the head before?

Repeatedly. But not
limited to the frontal lobe.

And from the looks of some
of these healed lesions,

over a long period of time.

It's funny, the mother
never mentioned these.

Probably because they weren't
from defending helpless women

and children.

Maybe the last one
wasn't, either.

Good mothers have been known
to make excuses for bad sons.

Find me evidence
she perjured herself.

How badly
was Jerry hurt?

When we found him,
his pupils weren't reactive.

He couldn't answer
basic questions,

and he drifted in and out of consciousness.

I take it the mother
was hysterical.

She insisted on riding along.
Wouldn't leave his side.

We had to physically pull her
away just to check his vitals.

She tell you
what happened?

When we first got there,
the little brother told us

he found him unconscious,
couldn't wake him up.

Wait a minute.
Where was the mother?

Downstairs in the bakery.

Wasn't
Jerry down there?

No. We responded
to the residence upstairs.

He was in his bedroom.

Why would my mom lie?

To protect Jerry.

We figure she had
to do that a lot.

No.

You know, if your mom's
making up stories,

or if she knows of
other women he's hurt,

then she could go
to jail, too.

You don't want that,
now, do you?

Brendan, we know your mom wants to
protect Jerry because she loves him.

But he's already
ruined enough lives.

Don't let him hurt your mom
any more than he already has.

You don't even know her.
She's the one who hurt him.

Your mom hit Jerry
that night?

Yes.
Why?

Same reason as always.

She caught him with
another pair of lady's shoes.

First time she caught him,
he was five years old.

Has she been hitting Jerry ever since?

She blames Jerry
for our dad leaving us

since he was
such an embarrassment.

What did she hit him with
that night?

The lady's shoe
she caught him with.

It had a big wooden heel.

Brendan, does your mom
ever hit you?

Sometimes. But I'm a lot
quicker than Jerry.

She's definitely
gonna whale on me

when she finds out
I told you all this.

You leave my mother
out of this.

Afraid that we can't
do that, Jerry.

Not after the blow by blow
Brendan gave us.

Jerry, we can plead you
guilty but not responsible,

but you have got
to work with us.

My mother
never hit me.

Why would your brother
say that?

To protect me.

Like Dr. Sorenson,

who treated you when your
mother put you in the hospital?

She didn't!

He told your mother that
your head injury was severe.

That you had
to be careful.

No.

That with
any further trauma,

the consequences
could be devastating.

Jerry, did she hit you
again after that?

I killed that girl.

I belong in prison.

You belong in a hospital.

You heard the expert.
They can't fix me.

If I get out,
I'll just do it again.

Like your mom?

Tell me what's gonna happen
when Brendan does something

to piss her off.

He won't.
No?

He's not like me.
He's normal.

Jerry, your mother's used to taking
out her frustrations on somebody.

Now, who's that person gonna
be when you're out of the house?

There was a girl
in the bakery.

I started talking
about her shoes.

Right in front of Ma.

Okay. What happened?

She went crazy. Came
after me with a frying pan.

I told her,
"Not my head, Ma. "

It just made her madder.

She caught me
on the side of my head,

knocked me down,

kept hitting.

I begged her to stop.

"Ma, please, remember
what the doctor said. "

She grabbed the handle
with both hands,

brought it down
as hard as she could.

That's the last thing
that I remember.

Here you go.
Enjoy, huh?

Enjoy it to go. The rest of you
might want to find another bakery.

What are you doing?
Placing you under arrest.

What for?

The murder
of Kunsong Bennett.

Oh, that's insane. I had
nothing to do with that.

Yeah, you did.

You caused the injuries that
turned Jerry into a killer.

What?
That's depraved indifference.

Murder two.

I didn't make him
the way that he is.

There's always something
wrong with him.

I did everything
I could to fix it.

With blows to the head?

Nothing else worked!

You don't know what
he put me through!

Oh, don't look at me
like that.

I am not the one
that's sick.

You know me.

You know that
I'm a good mother.

You tell them that
I'm a good mother!

Tell them!