Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (1999–…): Season 8, Episode 10 - Scheherazade - full transcript

(male announcer)
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.

[pipe organ music]

What name
have you chosen?

Claire.

Claire, be sealed with the gift
of the Holy Spirit.



Peace be with you.

(Claire)
And also with you.

What name
have you chosen?

Michael.

I thought Dickie
chose "Peter"

as his confirmation name.

Saint Michael.

Patron saint of cops.

He's trying to please
his father.

Like that's gonna get you guys
back together.

Hey, what do you say
we have lunch, huh?

P & G,
get some burgers?

I'm a vegetarian.

Yeah?
Since when?



Last summer.

Anyways, we're going
to Grandma's.

That's all right.

Tell you what, we'll do
something special

next weekend, okay?

Sure.
Come on, let's go.

Bye, Dad.

I love you.

It's still hard
for them.

I know.

Elliot.
Father.

Could I speak to you
for a moment?
Of course, Father.

Hey, tell 'em I want to say
good-bye to them

before they go, okay?
Okay.

Nice service.

Elliot, I need a favor.

Name it.

I have a ministry
at Haven House.

The hospice?

There's a dying man there.

Jud Tierney.

Lung cancer.
End stage.

I'd like you
to talk to him.

About what?

I can't say.

Did he confess something
to you?

You know better
than to ask me that.

Take it on faith.

[deep breath]

Okay, I'm working the next
four days--how about Friday?

He won't last that long.

Please?

(Stabler)
Mr. Tierney?

Yeah, yeah,
I'm still breathing.

As long as you're here,

get me another dish
of that yummy Jell-O.

Who are you?

Detective Elliot Stabler,
NYPD.

30 years I've been waiting
for this day.

[coughs]

You almost missed me.

Father Denis
gave me up, eh?

In my day, priests could
keep their mouths shut.

No pun intended.

Couple of Hail Marys,

good Act of Contrition,
go and sin no more.

You want to confess now?

Oh, don't I get a lawyer?

Sure, if you want one.

Depends.

What are you
charging me with?

You really need me
to tell you?

You don't know,
do you?

You had me there.

Not bad, flatfoot.

So, uh...

Tell me,
what squad are you from?

Special Victims.

You mean all victims
aren't special?

You want a beer?
No.

We handle sex crimes.

Rape, kidnapping,
child abuse, homicide.

Sounds like Father Denis
sent me the right guy.

Well, look,
if you want to talk,

I'm here to listen.

Don't rush me.

I'm not the one
doing the rushing.

The way I hear it,
the man downstairs

is rolling out the red carpet
for your arrival.

I'd expect nothing less.

He and I are old friends.

[coughing]

I gotta see my daughter.

You can bring her here.

She know you're dying?

[scoffing laugh]

Yeah, the doctors
had to call her.

She...hung up on me.

[sighs]

I got a lotta stuff I gotta get
off my chest, all right?

She deserves to hear it
from me.

[sighs]
Please.

You bring her here,
I'll--

I'll tell you everything.

Believe me,
there's a lot to tell.

You run him
through the system?

Yeah, there's no priors
under the name Judson Tierney.

But without fingerprints,
it could be an alias.

How about background?

He owns a house in Rego Park
free and clear.

He opened a locksmith shop,
1971.

He's worked there every day
since he got sick a year ago.

Financials?

Yeah, no credit card debt.

About $18,000
in his checking account.

Small IRA, but there's nothing
to raise any red flags.

He ever been a suspect,
or a target of an investigation?

Nope, I called my buddy
over at Intel.

I checked.
He's perfectly clean.

All right, you got
that address for the daughter?

I do.
Sheila Tierney DuMont.

Schoolteacher,
married, two kids.

She's up on 83rd Street.
Thanks.

You know what?
I'll go with you.

You think he molested her,
don't you?

No, I think

Father Denis chose you
for a reason.

With my luck, if Tierney
did abuse his daughter,

the statute of limitations
ran out a long time ago.

It's never too late
to help a victim.

(Sheila)
My life is
none of your business.

That's true, but your father
doesn't have much time left.

Good.

Come back when
the old bastard's dead.

I'll pop the champagne.

He's just trying
to clear his conscience.

Well, that's not my problem.

(Benson)
When's the last time
you saw him?

After my mom died.
1989.

You just a kid?

I was 18.

Has he ever met
your daughters?

Yeah, he went
to their school.

Introduced himself
on the playground.

When they told me...

I said if he ever
came near them again,

they should scream
and run to a teacher.
Sheila,

did your father
abuse you?

Uh...I'm not having
this conversation.

I would like you to leave.

Okay.

If you change
your mind...

And by the way,
your daughters are beautiful.

(Sheila)
Wait.

Um...there's a box
in the basement.

By the boiler.

I want you
to take it to him.

Bon voyage present.

Greeting cards.
Looks like hundreds of them.

Return address
is Rego Park.

These are all from Tierney.

"Sheila, please forgive me."

Hundred bucks.

Same message.

Another hundred.

Wow, postmarked '89.

'94...

This one's from 2003.
Looks like one a week
ever since she cut him off.

If all these have
money in them,

there's gotta be thousands
of dollars here.

I don't want them.

Give it to charity.

There are some things
money can't buy.

Like forgiveness.

Give up, Detective.

I'm still not going
to talk about it.

There are some cards
addressed to your daughters.

They might want
to read them someday.

Nope.
Get them out of my house.

You know, you've kept them
all these years.

How come you didn't
throw them away or burn them?

I was saving them up
for this very occasion.

I wanted to make sure he knew
I never read a single one.

I think he molested her.

I don't know.

Sheila reacted like
a classic abuse victim.

She cut off all contact,

won't let him
see her daughters.

The guy's done
something wrong,

but...he didn't seem
like a perv.

Why is Tierney
under your skin, El?

He's not.

Those greeting cards give us
his prints and saliva.

If his DNA's in the file
from unsolved crime,

we got him.

Why don't we drop
the cards off at the lab

and grab some dinner?

How about the cafeteria
at the Haven House?

You should meet Tierney.

[knocking on door]

Hey, did you find
my daughter?

Come in.

Sheila.

This is Olivia.

Ah.

Kinda looks like my daughter.

I'm his partner.

What do you think,
this is some kind of joke?

You tell us.

Sheila wouldn't come, eh?

No.

Yeah...she's a tough kid.

My girl.

Little thing like
her old man dying

ain't gonna soften her up.

[starts to laugh]

[coughs]

[clicking]
[machine beeps]

Damn thing never works
when you need it.

Morphine drip.

I call it
a pain in the ass.

Why doesn't he just
knock me out?

Is that how you want
to spend your last days?

In a drug-induced coma?

[laughs]

Kinda sounds
like my little girl.

Feisty.

I'll take that
as a compliment.

Take it any way
you want to take it.

So tell me,

how's, uh...
how's my baby girl look?

Good.

[laughs]

Can I get
a little more here?

She's beautiful.

So are your two little
granddaughters.

Ashley and Lindsay.

God only knows
where she dug up those names.

One of them's got
a birthday coming up.

I'll have to send her
a card.

So tell me, Jud,
what did you do?

What'd you do
to Sheila?

I hurt her.

Yeah.

How'd you hurt her?

I'm sorry, baby.

I'm really sorry, I...

He's asleep.

[pager beeping]

Okay, that was the lab.

Must be finished
processing the cards.

Why don't you go on?

I'll wait here.

Maybe he'll wake up
and want to talk.

(O'Halloran)
No shortage of evidence
to sample from this time.

I got great DNA
off the envelope flap,

but he's not
in the database.

I also lifted
some beautiful prints.

Everybody handles
a greeting card the same way.

Like a book.

Fingers on the outside,
thumbs on the inside.

Perfect way to get
a full exemplar.

But we know who he is.

Did you know
he had a record?

Liv ran Tierney's rap.
He's clean.

Only under the name
Judson Tierney.

Prints were filed
under Jake Tierney

when he was arrested
back in 1956.

Burglary in Peoria.

Attempted burglary,
St. Paul, '57.

Breaking and entering,
El Paso, '58.

So he never did more
than six months.

Nothing in 50 years.
That it?

No.
Check out the money.

(Stabler)
Yeah, they were old bills.
So what?

Look at the dates.

(Stabler)
'58, '62, '69.

Nothing newer
than 1970.

There's no way those
are in circulation.
He must have a stash.

Which is why I ran them
through the FBI
currency watch list.

Got a hit.

Database gave us
a case number.

Liv, I just found out
something very interesting.

I'm gonna head over
to the FBI.

Is Tierney awake yet?

He's still asleep.

No, I'm not.

[wheezing cough]

Call me if you
get anything, okay?

Yeah.

Elliot putting in overtime
trying to figure this thing out?

I already know.

This is about Sheila.

You abused her, didn't you?

Now, I've done some
bad things in my time.

I love my daughter.

I'd never lay a hand
on her.

Then why do you keep writing
"Forgive me, Sheila?"

What kind of father
molests his daughter

and then every year...

sends her a birthday card
to remind her?

I don't know what your dad
did to you, sweetie.

You need professional help.

I hope your partner's
got more sense.

(woman)
Detective Stabler?

I'm FBI Agent Peters.

Nice to meet you.

Are you assigned
to case 71210?

Numbers starting
with "71"

were opened in 1971.

That agent's
fishing for marlin

in the Florida Keys
by now.

So the case is closed?

I checked.
It isn't.

If you've got a lead,
I'll take it.

Well...nothing concrete,

but there may be
a connection

to an investigation
I'm working.

Can you tell me
about yours?

Two men who committed
one of the longest strings

of unsolved bank robberies.

They were known
as the Fedora Bandits.

They've been on
the Most Wanted List

for 47 years.

Beautiful morning, huh?

When you don't have many left,

you appreciate them more,
I guess.

Like that storm
we had last week.

You ever notice...

how clear the sky gets
just before a big storm?

It's like God is warning us
that good things don't last.

Sounds like
a guilty conscience talking.

[chuckles]
Probably the morphine.

Oh, it's cold.

Well, would you like
a blanket?

Sure, thanks.

How about your fedora?

I'm impressed,
you two are quick.

Not that you got
much time here.

So you ready to confess
to 21 armed robberies?

(Tierney)
That's just the tip
of the iceberg, Elliot.

Come on, you don't think
that old story's

the only one I got.

I went straight
back in the Stone Age.

1971,
the year Sheila was born.

First time I held Sheila,
everything was changed.

They were so small
and so...fragile.

I knew I...
I had to protect her.

And I couldn't protect her
if I got myself locked up.

But Sheila found out
what you did.

That's why she hates you.

You're wrong.

Sheila never knew
anything about me.

(Stabler)
So why won't she
come here?

You know why I never got myself
picked up in those days?

Because I never talked about me
or my business to anybody.

And certainly never
to a cop.

Even one as pretty as you,
darlin'.

Okay, I'm done--I'm gonna
turn this over to the feds.
Let them waste their time.

The tip of the iceberg,
Elliot.

Trust me on this.

Where are you going?

I'm tired.

The drugs kick my ass.

I gotta lay down.

Stick around, darlin'.

You never know when
I might feel like talkin', eh?

[knock on door]
Elliot.

How'd it go
with Tierney?

He gave up the bank jobs.

I'm writing up the report
for the feds.

That's all he told you?

You saying there's more?

Okay, Father,
have a seat, please.

Now, maybe he spilled
his guts to you,

but with me,
this guy is a clam.

He's kept his silence
a long time.

Old habits
are hard to break.

With all due respect,
I got 12 active cases

sitting on my desk--
I don't have time

to play 20 questions
with Tierney.

His immortal soul
is in danger.

Well, eternal damnation
is not a police matter.

It's not solely
a spiritual matter.

You'd be saving
an entire family.

That's a nice story.

So you knew nothing
about the robberies?

No, but I'm not surprised.

My dad's a pro
at hiding things.

Like what?

My whole life.

You know, you're an awful lot
like your father.

You hate him
for keeping secrets?

You got plenty
of your own.

[sighs]

When my mom died,

my dad, uh,
wanted me to stay home.

Go to college in Queens.

But I had to get out
of that house.

I decided to go
to Europe.

I had money saved.

All I needed was a passport,

but he wouldn't give me
my birth certificate.

So I picked the lock
on the strongbox

where he kept
all the family papers.

Right, but you don't
hate your father this much

because of some
summer vacation.

The birth certificate...

listed my father
as Judson Tierney

and my mother
as Suzanne Mollinax.

But my mother's name
was Lenore.

[clears throat]

How'd he explain that?

He told me my mom
couldn't have children.

And he'd had an affair
with Suzanne.

And gotten her pregnant.

My parents...

never hugged me.

They never said
they loved me.

Well, that was

the old-school Irish way.

My folks are the same.

Oh no--it was not
the same thing.

That house was nothing
but locked doors

and...silence.

It doesn't mean
they didn't love you.

My father made my mother

raise his lover's child.

Every day,
I was there to remind them

of his affair.

It's no wonder
my parents didn't touch me.

My mother probably hated me.

Look, I'm sure
that's not true.

Well, I'll never know now,
will I?

(Huang)
It's her choice, Elliot.

If Sheila doesn't want
to see her father,

you can't make her.

Yeah, and after he dies,

you don't think
she'll regret it?

Maybe, maybe not.

Look, all you shrinks
talk about is closure.

"Every unhappy family
is unhappy in its own way."

Tolstoy, Anna Karenina.

Families are complicated.

Yeah, tell me about it.

[sighs]

All right, so Tierney.

How do we get him
to talk?
You don't.

He'll talk to you
when he's ready.
When he's ready?

Look, this guy
is running out of time,

and quite frankly,
I'm running out of patience.

You can't rush
Scheherazade.

What's that?

You ever read
1,001 Arabian Nights?

Yeah, Ali Baba.
The flying carpets.

Scheherazade
is the narrator.

She made up the stories
for a king

who married
a new virgin every night

and then cut off the head
of last night's bride.

When he married Scheherazade,
she told him a story

so gripping
that he couldn't kill her

until he heard
the end of the story.

But the story never finished,
it just went on and on.

Tierney's trying to stave off
death like Scheherazade.

With a story of bank robberies
and illegitimate children.

He's trying to hang on
to make peace with his daughter.

But, since his daughter
won't come,

he needs Olivia
to take her place.

She has,
she's glued to his side.

I mean, she spent last night
watching him sleep.

No, that's his fantasy
of a daughter.

In reality,
Sheila's furious with him.

You saying Liv needs
to get mad at him?

I'm saying that if she does,
Tierney will do whatever
he can to get her back.

Tierney, wake up.
Let's go.

Come on, wake up.
Let me sleep.

Oh, trust me, there'll be plenty
of time for that soon enough.

Boy, you got a hell
of a bedside manner, doctor.

Tell me about
Suzanne Mollinax.

She died.
Long time ago.

She's also
Sheila's birth mother.

My wife, Lenore,

was Sheila's mother.

Like I told Sheila,
"Blood doesn't matter.

Only love matters."

Love?

You had a funny way
of showing it.

Making your wife raise
another woman's kid?

I never made Lenore
do anything.

She wanted a baby.
She couldn't get pregnant.

So why not adopt?

Because I was
a convicted felon.

Nobody gives a baby
to an ex-con.

I was a good father.

Yeah, you're such a devoted
father, why won't Sheila

take any of your calls?

You can't hide from this.

All your secrets

are coming out.
I just wanted
to protect her.

Don't give me that.

You were trying
to protect yourself.

You didn't want to go
to prison.

I gotta tell you, Tierney,
this is getting really old.

Sheila doesn't want
to hear your stories,

and quite frankly,
neither do I.

I'm outta here.

You got a car?

This is where Lenore
was born and raised.

So this is where
she deserves to stay.

I guess, uh,
Sheila's been here.

(Tierney)
What, the roses? Nah.

I used to bring them myself,

and...eh,
the florist does it now.

I don't think she minds.

I'll give you a minute.

Hey, no, no.
It's all right.

I don't have
to come up here

to talk to her.

Besides,
you better start digging.

Dig up your wife's grave?

What are you, nuts?

Not the grave.

No, the...flowers.

Look under
the flowers.

No better place

for burying a secret
than a boneyard, eh?

I always figured Lenore
would keep me

from being tempted.

Keys.

To what?

[creaking]

Liv, there's gotta be
millions of dollars here.

Yep, Tierney's stash.
I--

I found it.

Along with the other half
of the Fedora Bandits.

See the scorching
around the hole?

Close range,
right in the heart.

Any idea how long
he's been down there?

Could be months,
or years.

Mummification can occur
in a short period of time

if the body is maintained
at a steady, low temperature

without the degrading
effects of sunlight.

Well, he wasn't
killed recently.

The wide collar,
short tie?

Classic '70s look.

Brings back memories.

Of what?
You in diapers?

Bless your heart.

I also found these coins
in his pocket.

Nothing dated after 1971.

I'd say that's as close
as we're gonna get

to a time of death.

Makes sense.
1971.

It's when the Fedora Bandits
stopped robbing banks.

(Benson)
So you said you went straight
for Sheila's sake.

That's not true.

You killed your partner,

that's why you can't
rob any more banks.

That I did.

What, no remorse?
Not even a tear?

[coughs]

Jack had it coming.

So you stuff his body
in a trunk,

and you let it rot
in your backyard.

Now that I regret.

Stunk up the place
something fierce.

Told the neighbors
there must have been

a dead cat
in the storm drain.

[coughing]
What else was I gonna do?

Turn yourself in?

There were other people
involved.

Innocent people.

Yeah, like Jack's family.

[coughing]

Jack didn't have
any kids.

His wife was better off
without him.

Besides...

Thanks.

I made sure
she was taken care of.

You ever think that maybe
she would want to know

that he's dead?

[coughing]

(Rita)
Girls, I'm a widow.

Congratulations.
You in this hand?

Deal me out.

I haven't even thought
of that jackass in years.

Do you know how
Jack earned his living?

I know it probably wasn't
what he put on his income tax.

Whenever I got too curious,

he'd buy me
another piece of jewelry.

Here, keep it.

Did you ever get curious
about why he disappeared?

Figured he ran off
with his mistress.

You knew he was cheating?

It was a different time.

Nice Catholic girls
didn't get a divorce.

Although I considered it,
for the sake of the baby.

I didn't know
you had kids.

I didn't.

Jack knocked a girl up.

And she wanted him
to divorce me.

He never even asked.

He had his affairs,
he always came home to mama.

Well, if he never asked,
how'd you know about the baby?

Because his little tramp

shows up on my doorstep
with it.

Begged me to let him go.

You remember
the tramp's name?

It rhymes with "hunt."

Oh, and her real name?

Suzanne...

Mollinax.

You and Jack Colino were both
sleeping with Suzanne Mollinax.

So who's Sheila's
biological father,

you or Jack?

Jack.

So why is your name
on her birth certificate?

I forged it.

Do me a favor,
would you?

Hand me a smoke.

Over in that drawer
over there.

Top left.

Is that a joke?

What, is it gonna
make me sick?

So if Sheila's not
your kid,

how'd she wind up
with you?

Eh, Sheila was about
a month old, I guess.

Yeah, about a month.

Jack calls me up.

He says he ran out of gas.

Said he needed me
to bring a can

over to Suzanne's house.

I get there, she's dead.

Jack killed her?

Why?

Apparently she told him
she was gonna rat him out

about the bank jobs
if he doesn't leave his wife.

Crazy son of a bitch.

He whacks her right there.

Way he sees it,
the problem is solved, right?

All he's gotta do now
is get rid of the body.

Can of gasoline.

He starts splashing
the stuff around

all over the place--
I said, "Wait, Jack.

What about the baby?"

He says,
"To hell with her.

To hell with her.
Let her burn."

He makes a move
towards the crib.

Got the gas can
in his hand.

I shot him
right through the pump.

So you took the baby.

What did you tell your wife?

I told her the truth.

Told her about Jack
and Suzanne.

Bank jobs, the money,
the whole thing.

She cried for about
an hour, I...

Then she made me swear
that part of my life was over.

I locked up Jack and the money
in the bomb shelter.

I never looked back.

Why didn't you ever
tell Sheila

that she was adopted?

What am I gonna tell her?
Huh?

I'm gonna tell her
her birth mother

is a blackmailing tramp,

her father was
a murderous thief?

And me--me?
I killed him.

You didn't want her
to hate herself.

Everything I did,
I did for Sheila.

And I'd do it again.

There's too many secrets,
too many lies.

Look, I killed a man.

I stole his kid.

Now I gotta answer
for that, at least.

So arrest me.

Please.

Come on.

Did you leave your handcuffs
at home?

Judson Tierney,
you're under arrest

for the murder
of Jack Colino.

And the kidnapping
of Sheila DuMont.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say

can and will
be used against you

in a court of law.

(Fin)
48 hours, you solve

21 bank jobs,
a murder, and a kidnap?

What, are you trying
to make us look bad?

Well, you know,
for once,

Catholic guilt's
a good thing.

I thought we Jews
had a corner in that market.

What are you doing here?

Shouldn't you be down
in Federal Plaza, gloating?

I gotta pull some paperwork
on the old cases

so I can write up
the charges on Tierney.

So what do you need?

Uh, 1971 arson/homicide

for Suzanne Mollinax.

Where's Olivia?

Guarding the prisoner.

Tierney insisted.

He wanted to go
to Central Booking,

but his doctors
wouldn't let him.

(Fin)
Elliot, you need
to see this.

What do you got?

The Mollinax case was closed
in 1972.

The ex-husband
was convicted.

Mike Mollinax,
two counts

of Murder Two,
Arson in the First?

(Mollinax)
September 17, 1971,

I was sitting on a bar stool
at McFadden's.

Cops came in
and arrested me

for killing Suzanne
and the baby.

I told them I didn't do it.

But nobody believed me.

Why?

I was a mean drunk
back then.

I didn't take it well
when Suzanne threw me out.

You mean you threatened her.

I'd get a load on,
go by the house,

yell at her.

One time I said
I'd burn the place down

if I ever caught her
with another man.

When I heard she died in a fire,
I knew the cops would be
looking for me.

You ran.

I holed up with a girl
I was bangin'.

We had a fight.

I beat her up.

She turned me in
the next day.

So all they had you on
was motive.

That's not much of a case.

I was a dirtbag boozehound

with a habit
of beating on women.

It took the jury 20 minutes
to convict.

Am I really
gonna get out of here?

I'll get him out.

Wrongful convictions
make the whole system look bad.

So what do we
have to do?

I'll draft the 440 motion
to set aside the conviction.

Get it put on the calendar
in a day or two.

Will Tierney be able
to testify at the hearing?

He's in pretty bad shape--
the doctors say he's not
gonna last too long.

Then I'll need
an affidavit

from his doctor,

testifying to his condition.

I can get a dying declaration
admitted as hearsay.

So I'll take a sworn statement
from Tierney.

Look, I gotta tell you,
I don't think he knew

about Mollinax's conviction.

No, no, if I knew
Mollinax was in prison

for her murder,
I would've said something.

I checked--
the papers didn't cover

his arrest or trial.

I--what--
what do I gotta do
to make this right, huh?

I will swear you in,
and then we'll take

a recorded statement.
All right.

Well, let's do it.
Come on, come on, let's go.

Come on, come on,
let's do it.

Raise your right hand.
Yeah.

[violent coughing]

Do you swear that the statement
you're about to make

is the truth?

[coughing]
The whole truth...

[machine beeps]
and nothing but the truth,
so help you God?

I do.

Then let's begin.

Would you please state
your name for the record?

My name is
Judson Martin Tierney.

Mr. Tierney,
I want to talk to you about

events that occurred
on February 10th, 1971

at the home
of Suzanne Mollinax.

Were you present
at that location?

[coughing]
I was, yeah.

Why?

Jack called me here.

Jack who?

[stuttering]
My partner.

Jack Colino.

And why did Jack call you?

He--he wanted me to...

He wanted me to help him...

Help him...

Help him
get rid of the body.

Mr. Tierney?

Mr. Tierney?

It's the morphine.

It makes him drift
in and out.

You didn't tell me
he was on pain medication.

Well, it doesn't affect
his memory.

No, but it makes anything
he says legally inadmissible.

Without this statement,
I can't get Mike Mollinax

out of prison.

Mr. Tierney's in
excruciating pain.

I increased his morphine
this morning.

How long
before he wakes up?

Frankly, I'm hoping
he won't.

Is there any way
you can bring him out of it?

Narcan would reverse
the effects of morphine,

but I can't administer it
without his consent.

There's no way he's doing that
as long as he's doped up.

I know it's a catch-22,

but Mr. Tierney
chose that treatment.

I can't go
against his wishes.

What about
his next of kin?

His family could request
the Narcan.

Although it's my understanding
he's estranged
from his only child.

But if Sheila Tierney
came in here,

you'd have to honor
her request.

Yes.

My...real father...

killed my mother.

And wanted to kill me too.

Why didn't my dad tell me?

I think he was trying
to protect you.

I will sign the papers.

I don't want an innocent man
to have to pay for his crimes.

Just promise me one thing.

Okay.

You tell my dad

that I didn't do it for him.

And sign here.

Okay...

Is that it?

Yeah, I'll administer
the Narcan now.

Your father will wake up
right away,

if you want to see him.

What do you say?

Your choice.

I don't know.

Look, we both know
your father screwed up,

but he hid the truth because
he didn't want to hurt you.

I mean, all I can tell you

is I've done the same thing
with my kids,

and it was always
because I loved them.

He's coming out of it now.

Sheila?

I can't, I can't.

(Tierney)
Hey, that's her.

That's my girl.

Yeah....that's okay.

She'll be back.

Gah.

Yeah, sure she will.

Where's that D.A.?

She never finished
taking my statement.

She's ready
whenever you are.

Well, she'd better
make it quick.

Detective?
Assistant Warden McFarland.

You hear about
Mike Mollinax?

You got the statement
exonerating him

and the 440 hearings
tomorrow.

I'm afraid
you're too late.

We got a sworn statement.

That's 20 years too late.

Back in '85, we had
an incident in B Tier.

The Aryan Brotherhood
mixed it up with the Crips.

One of my officers
got shanked

breaking up a fight,

a couple inmates
got killed.

Mollinax was involved?

He committed
one of the murders.

Old case
might get tossed out,

but we're gonna
file on him for homicide.

(Mollinax)
How can they book me now

after all these years?

No statute of limitations
on murder.

Why didn't they charge me
back then?

The way the warden
explained it,

you were already doing life--
no need to clog up the courts.

Come on, man, there's gotta be
something you can do.

[gasping and coughing]

Hey, hey, take it easy.

Is Mollinax out?

Not yet.

There's been a little...
complication.

Ah!

(Stabler)
Why don't we start with you
telling me what happened?

I was coming back
from chow,

and these Aryan freaks
jump a black guy.

His friends pile on,
all hell breaks loose.

I was just walking by,

and this black guy
comes at me
with a six-inch shank.

I didn't even know
the dude.

I tackle him,
we both go down,

and he drops the shiv.

He was choking me out
when I grabbed the shiv

and stabbed him.

In self-defense, man!
You gotta believe me.

Are you gonna help me?

If your story checks.

Just take it easy.

[sighs]

They better hurry.

My hands are tied.

Mike Mollinax
committed murder.

I've got witness statements
from six people,

including prison staff,
all of them backing

the claim of self-defense.

I don't have jurisdiction
over crimes committed

outside the city.
You could talk to
the D.A. upstate.

I already did--he's backing
the warden's decision.

So Mollinax does 34 years
for a murder he didn't commit,

and now he's gonna do
more time for a murder

he never would've committed
if he hadn't been locked up
in the first place?

Do you understand
how crazy that is?

I know, but legally,
there's nothing I can do.

Do something, Casey.

We're still waiting
on the word.

Ah.

Jud...

Jud, listen to me.

I promise you--

I promise you we're gonna
get Mollinax out.

Okay.

You don't have to
fight anymore.

Rest.

No.

No, not now.
Because...

I gotta see this through,
I gotta...

You want me to ask the governor
for a pardon?

I'll make the request.

I just need you
to get him on the phone.

He'll take your call;

you guys have been friends
since law school.

And as a friend,
I would have to advise him

against getting involved.

The upstate D.A.
has every right

to try Mollinax
for murder.

The governor can't
circumvent his authority.

So we let an innocent man
rot in prison?

That's not what I'm saying.

But there is a solution

that will satisfy everyone.

Mollinax has to serve time
for the murder he committed.

Yeah, he's already done
35 years.

I'm not suggesting
he stay in prison.

The governor pardons Mollinax
on condition

that he pleads guilty
to the prison murder,

and gets sentenced
to time served.

So the upstate D.A. and
the warden get what they want,
and Mollinax goes home.

Well done.

I will get you in
to see the governor.

The rest is up to you.

(Stabler)
This is taking too long.

Tierney's not
gonna make it.

(Novak)
Maybe we should tell him
Mollinax is out

so he can die in peace.

I'm not gonna lie to the guy.

He wouldn't know.

I would.

[door opens]
(aide)
Ms. Novak.

The governor's agreed
to grant your request.

Thank you.

Liv, we got it.
See you soon.

Jud.

Wake up.

Jud.

Is he out?
Yeah.

[exhales]
Good, that's good.

Hey, do me a favor,
will you?

Stick around.

Not gonna be long.

I'm not going anywhere.

[sobbing]

[wolf howling]