NCIS: New Orleans (2014–…): Season 1, Episode 23 - My City - full transcript

Sasha-- she's
out of control.

We know she's been flooding
the ports with contraband.

That don't even scratch
the surface.

There's a storm coming,

likes of which you never seen.

Gonna hit you Navy folks
where you live.

What are you talking about?

Tell me.

Just as soon as I sign

them agreement papers.

Over there.



Shooter's heading out.

Cut him off!

Before Baitfish was killed,

he said something about a storm

coming in, bigger
than anything

this city's seen before.

65 acres here.

Another 35
across the river.

Well, where do you want
to start?

♪ NCIS:New Orleans 1x23 ♪
My City
Original Air Date on May 12, 2015

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ How, how, how, how ♪



♪ Hey, hey ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

♪ You gotta come on. ♪

♪ Put your dreams away for now ♪

♪ I won't see you
for some time ♪

♪ I am lost in my mind ♪

♪ I get lost in my mind ♪

♪ Mama once told me ♪

♪ You're already home
where you feel loved ♪

♪ I am lost in my mind ♪

Ah, infamous Baitfish wall.

Baitfish wall no more.

You don't knock?
Well,

knocking just gives the dudes
on the other side of the door

a chance to load up
and aim.

Better to put your head down
and barge in.

Kind of my life philosophy.

Thought you'd be back
at your offices at ATF by now.

Uh, well, while
I'm healing,

resident in charge said
I could stay put,

close up the files
on my undercover work.

King.

Percy.

Lasalle.

Loretta and Sebastian are here.

Gather the group at SCIF.
You got it.

SCIF means secret-secret.
What's up?

Come.

We've been told a
storm is coming.

Already intercepted cash...

bullets...

antiquities.

All of which came through the
ports hidden in Navy shipments.

Checked with Homeland
and the Feds.

Notified every agency and so far
nothing on their radars.

Got the Navy increasing
force protection levels

at the ports and
sensitive targets.

If they find anything, we're
first on their call list.

Dude, we don't raise
our hands in here.

What are you-- six?

Look, I know you got
an office here now,

but I'm still
technically a visitor.

They always like that?
Uh-huh.

Uh, Dwayne, why are we here?

That was gonna be my question.

What just happened
to Baitfish.

No one knew the route
but the people on the inside.

And yet, he was gunned down.

Which can only mean that...
We have a mole.

You think it could be someone
from our office?

No.

But at this point,

I'm not ruling anything out.

Something big is coming.

The what and when of it
are still up in the air.

Until we've neutralized
the threat,

I want you all to assume
that the only people

you can trust...
are in this room.

Dead sailor at the port.

Patton, sweep
the entire facility for bugs.

Everyone, on your toes.

Brody and Lasalle,
you're with me.

Mind if I hitch a hide?
Sure.

Come on.

When you put us on alert,
I reached out to port ops

and the supply officer
in charge.

Wanted to make sure
he checked and rechecked

our cargo
before my ship's arrival.

When I couldn't get
a hold of him this morning,

I contacted
my civilian counterpart.

Jonathan Warren,
yard manager, Port Commission.

Got in my car,
drove right here.

That's where I found him.

Who's the deceased?

Logistics Specialist
Third Class David Hanson.

Since this is a mixed-use port

and terminal security runs
through me,

I dealt with David a lot.

Hard worker.

First in, last out.

He got family?

Get him to reach out to CACO,
make sure the family's notified.

Camera there.

Pointed in the general
direction of our victim.

Can you get us the feed?

I'll have it to you
by this afternoon.

Thank you.
Where are we?

Uh, based on rigor
and body temp,

time of death--
3:00, 3:30 this morning.

And judging by the incised wound
in his jugular vein...

...cause of death--
severe hemorrhaging.

He bled out here.

Guys, there are a dozen
containers here.

This is the only one
that's been opened.

So, maybe Hanson's prepping
containers for ship's arrival,

finds someone in the
midst of a robbery,

things get ugly.

Let's see what's
worth killing for.

Rogue cafeteria worker
looking to score

some free table setups?

Hang on.

PVC pipe.

Keeps going, too.

Tubes to nowhere?

It's a wall of sheet metal.

Looks detached down here.

What the...?

Tube for air.

People were stowed here.

If this is what Baitfish
warned us about...

Then the storm isn't a what.

It's a who.

What's Washington say?

Deputy director's been
updated on the threat.

Marching orders--
find out who the hell was inside

that container and how
our dead sailor was involved.

Shouldn't we take this
conversation back in...?

Patton's sweep
came back clean.

Tell me things.
Talked to NSA.

300 enemies of the state
with port presence.

Members of Somali Mafia,

Cambodia's Tycoon
Syndicate and Hezbollah.

And our container?

Sebastian's analyzing
everything in that compartment,

combing for DNA.

As for the origin
of the container,

it's a ghost.

It wasn't scanned
when it came in.

Unusual?

With 10,000 containers
coming through

each week,
it's not unheard of.

Port Commission reports
a two percent loss annually.

But seeing as this one was
filled with people--

suspicious.

My condolences go out
to the family

of the young sailor
who was killed today.

And I'm here
to make them a promise

that justice will be served

and the safety
of our parishes will be returned

to the standard we all deserve.
Thank you...

Election season already?

Always and forever with him.

Loretta's got something
on our sailor.

Check in, will you?

And you?

Container and mole
are connected.

You chase down the former.

Let me hunt down the latter.

Who's driving, Lasalle--
you or me?

Well, you got
the morning java,

so I'll brave
the Quarter traffic.

All right.

St. Christopher medallion?

Savannah's dad...

said she wanted me
to have it.

You want to talk about it?

Nope.

You sure?

Yup.

Okay.

Mole, huh?

And you coming to me, son?

During your heyday,
you had an insider

in nearly every office
in the city.

If there were a professional
corruption league,

Should I be touched or offended?

Try being helpful.

Sounds to me like somebody

in Navy uniform
is your problem.

No.

Threat's coming
through the Navy.

But my problem-- the mole--

someone in the city.

All right, start with theories.

Got one.
Can't land it.

Ah, let me guess.

Young Hamilton?

Must run in the gene pool.

The ports are
in his district.

If he was getting
kickbacks

by letting things
slip through,

my suddenly dead
witness's testimony

would've meant that
the councilman

could've been your
new cell mate.

Well, being in the district
doesn't mean he has control.

Look, say for a moment
that Hamilton is your mole.

He still could have somebody
on the inside pulling strings.

Stevedore or truck driver,
scales operator...

An insider.

Find him or her, and maybe
they can prove your hunch.

Meantime, I still got sources.

Let me dig.

Appreciate that.

Son?

Why are you trusting me
with this?

You bilked a whole lot of people
out of their money, Cassius,

but you might be the only person

who loves this city
as much as me.

Sir.
Thank you.

I swabbed Specialist Hanson's
throat wound for analysis.

Found iron oxide residue,
presumably rust from a blade.

Also, trace amounts
of organic matter,

which turned out
to be tuna.

Tuna?

Albacore, specifically.

Tuna can
from inside the container.

Found matching iron oxide
residue around the rim.

If the same knife
that killed Hanson

also opened that can, then...

Whoever was in the container
claimed his first victim.

Posible nada with the señor.

Perdón por la interrupción.

What's with the Spanish, brah?

Un momento para
the... explanation.

Okay, so,

I found a few hair
follicles from the container

with the roots
still attached.

Now, usually we use DNA
to pinpoint identity,

but guessing that we don't have

our stowaways' I.D.s
in our system,

I scanned for
nuclear DNA,

which pinpoints origins and sex

based on root
samples, and...

dios mio, I got hits.

Uh, all female, and judging
by the condition of the hair,

between 20 and 30 years old,
also with Incan origins.

Hence my terrible Spanish
when I walked in.

I think these woman came

from a coastal region
of South America,

specifically... Ecuador.

Young Ecuadorian women?

That's our storm?

You seen those photos
of girls joining ISIS?

Wolf in sheep's
clothing.

Oh, come on. These women
scream sex ring, not terrorism.

Regardless, BOLO for the women
went out an hour and a half ago

based on Sebastian's
description.

Which doesn't match anyone
on the DOD

or NSA's threat list.

Maybe there was someone else
in that box who does.

Well, look who's
still here.

Can't bear to
leave us, Percy?

Got a fridge
that just won't quit.

Tad too much meat product
for my taste,

but damn, y'all have
a lot of Perrier.

We tested every shred
of evidence in that box.

No sign of anyone
other than those women.

Yeah, well, some things
are no longer in that box.

Early 2009,

I was part of an ATF raid
of an End of Days group.

Perps fled, left the women
and children behind.

Couldn't find a shred
of their DNA

until we realized
there was one thing

they couldn't help
putting their hands on.

The women.
Bingo. Swabbed the girls,

found trace amounts of tissue
and hair follicles.

Got the bastards.

I'll interface with
the lab guy, which

gives me another chance
to hang out

with the tall,
handsome man-child.

Sebastian?

You never know, Lasalle.

Might like 'em wordy and nerdy.

VICE just got word

a group of South American
girls are being held in Tremé.

Let's move.

Guys.

My officers been staking
this house for weeks.

Word is, four coyotes inside,
two at the door,

two in the cash room
around back.

My men are ready to move.

We got a dead Navy sailor.

Girls inside may have
Intel on the killer.

You think he's a smuggler?

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

My men go on your word.

Why don't you and I take
the front door?

Christopher, take the fellows
around back.

Let's go.

NCIS!

Don't move!

One down.

Two down.

Don't move!

Where are the girls?

Where are they?

We... were in the box

for... three days.

Dark.

I think I'm going to die.

When we stop,

bad men tell us quiet,

wait for somebody
to open the door.

There were... men?

How many?

Dos.

Uh,

they smoke,

never say any words.

While we were waiting
for somebody to open the door,

one girl-- she start crying.

A man, um... a...

¿Cómo Se dice?

Uh, in a suit?

Uniform?

Sí.

He got us out.

Bad man... hit him.

Cut his throat.

The bad man--

what did he look like?

Uh, he has, um...

a fire and machete.

Like this.

Thousands of tattoos
in the database.

Got to refine the search.

Is that Sebastian?

You call that
a wellness elixir?

Cayenne pepper,
oil of oregano, and ginger.

Oh. Oh, hey, guys.

Uh, turns out Sonja
and I share a common interest

in the healing
property of roots.

You called us?

Oh, right. So, um, thanks to
Sonja's very astute insight,

uh, we had the stowaway girls'
clothing sent for testing,

swabbed and scraped for
epithelial cell tissue, and...

Drumroll, please.

Nuclear DNA results?

Two men, West African descent.

Send us your results.

Most def.

Okay, so let's add this new
information to the mix.

Refining search parameters.

And bam.

Solomon Ekpo.

Leader of a terrorist
group out of West Africa

known as the Niger
Delta Renegades.

FBI has
a video clip.

You come to our home,

you choke our land for petrol,
pollute our villages.

What you take from us,
we'll take from you.

Not in oil; in blood.

Our storm...

just turned into a hurricane.

According to NSA,
Solomon Ekpo went off the grid

a few months back.

Intel suggests he was trying
to find a way into the country.

And with the Navy
shipments compromised...

Flees Nigeria,
heads to South America

with his chief lieutenant,
Charles Turay.

And the two of them hitch a ride
in a container up to the States?

That's the current theory.

What do we know
about Ekpo?

Solomon Ekpo,

born and raised on
the Nigeria coast,

owned a cassava farm,
was a father and husband

until '87 when the Greybridge
Energy oil pipeline fire

took all that away.

His wife and children
were burned to death.

Shortly after, he started
the Niger Delta Renegades

in hopes of taking revenge
on the Western energy sector.

He began with attacking
oil tankers,

and when he didn't
get results,

he bombed the USS Allegiance,
killing five sailors.

Hanson's his first victim
on American soil.

Our job is to make sure
it's his last.

Get me a list of potential
targets and any chatter.

Coming from the Renegades--
got it.

Focus on the last
six months.

So Ekpo and Turay
were in the container,

Hanson opens it, and one of the
two Nigerians slits his throat.

They were waiting
for someone

to get them out
of that container.

Yeah, probably wasn't Hanson.

Where the hell are we
with the surveillance footage?

Where you're about to be
is Patton Plame's love shack.

Follow. It's where
the fun starts.

Feel free to take
a seat there.

Cushion's pure
Egyptian cotton.

I'll stand.

Patton, surveillance
footage.

Fine, we'll skip
the foreplay,

but just know you killing
the vibe here.

All right, since we kept
getting delayed

on getting
the port surveillance,

went looking in the cloud.

All I had to do was extinguish
a few firewalls,

tee up the video,

there he is--

Petty Officer Hanson.

Fast-forward to the time
of the murder, 3:30 a.m.

Warp speed ahead.

Wait a minute, whoa,
that's interesting.

3:26.

That's...

That was the last frame.

Erased?

The rest of the night?

Yeah.

Hang on.
Give me a moment.

Looks like whoever did this
left a hell of a fingerprint.

Traced back
the IP address

to none other than...

...yard manager,
Jonathan Warren.

Guy we talked to at the docks.

The guy that promised the
footage but never delivered.

Where can we
find Warren?

Got called by JPSO.

When they told me

it was Warren,
I knew to notify you.

Small caliber round
to the skull.

Working on time
of death.

Ready for this?

Series of texts
from a blocked phone.

All five-digit
numbers.

Container numbers.

Ran a check.
All are ghosts.

And the last
one, 28871,

that's the container Ekpo
and Turay came out of.

So Warren got
the numbers,

made sure the contraband made it
through the port undetected

but showed up late
for his final job.

Yeah, Hanson got
in the way,

so Ekpo took care of him.

And then when we started
sniffing around...

Then Warren became
another loose end

that needed to be tied.

Time of death?

It's a rough guess, but
somewhere between 2:30 and 2:45.

BOLO on Warren
went out at 1:00.

And Warren's dead an
hour and a half later.

Mole's still one step ahead.

Get a hold of Brody.

See if she's got any information
on the Renegades' targets.

Dwayne.

Every story of ruin starts
with men building walls.

Taller and wider.

To keep out
the invaders.

But cities don't collapse
from the outside.

They're taken down
from someone on the inside.

Iago, Brutus, Judas.

Traitors, all.

If we don't figure out
who ours is,

we don't have a chance
against Ekpo.

Sorry to interrupt.

Brody just got some
background on our Vic.

You're never gonna guess

who appointed Warren
Port Commission.

Who?

Well, yeah, I mean,

if we can get young Leroy
on our side,

we'll have majority.

Absolute...

Douglas will call
you back.

Well, if I'd known you were
gonna join me for lunch,

I would have ordered
you the salmon.

And who's this
poor soul?

Someone you had appointed
to the Port Commission.

I appoint lots
of people.

It's part of the job.

Yeah, well, this appointee
let in a terrorist.

So whether you knew
about it or not,

you got blood
on your hands.

I'm gonna tell
you something.

Do I appoint people
I don't know

to repay favors?

Yes. Oh, yes, all the time.

Happens all the time.

But what you are
accusing me of,

compromising our city,

is something that
my father would do.

And I am not
my father.

Prove it.

Once and for all.

If someone paid
my campaign cash

to put this
man in office,

then I will grant you
access to anything.

You can have my financials,
my donor lists,

anything you want,
but I'm telling you,

I do not know the name of the
person you're looking for.

Hey, Pride!

Hold up.

All right, I'll
push, you talk.

I'm in a hurry.

Thank you.

Hey, man.

Yesterday,
Yeah.

our ATF friend Sonja and I
was in my office talking.

I left to hit
the head.

While I was gone, she
used my log-in I.D.

to get into our system.
What for?

Still searching. But...

But no classified
files were breached.

Look, man.

I don't think this is
connected to the mole issue.

Percy's good people.

Seeing what's
going on around here,

you thought I should know.

Thanks for the heads-up.

You good?

Yeah, I'm good.
Where you going?

Business.

This is Hamilton's donor list?

Hundreds of names.

Families.

Judges, lawyers.

Connections I'm...
Shh...

trying to make sense of.
All right.

Just let the bad man
do his work here.

I got a hunch now, but...

a hunch is no good without...

...without the proof.

What?

Hunch just
became fact.

Who is Suzy Rivard?

Suzy's second husband
is Johnny Rivard,

and he's in here
with me right now.

Few months back,
he got a window cell,

and there's only four of them
in the whole damn prison.

Only way you can get that
is with a bribe.

This has a point, yes?

Rivards don't have
any money,

yet somehow Johnny's lady
got the cash to donate

to Hamilton and get her
dim-witted husband better digs?

She asked for Warren
to get appointed.

She's our mole.

Your mole is the one who is
filling up her bank account.

Now, ask me Suzy's
maiden name.

Well, come on, ask.

It's more fun that way.

What is Suzy Rivard's
maiden name?

Messier.

Jim Messier.

Suzy Rivard is his mama.

Messier didn't want anyone
tracing his name back to Warren.

So he had his mama
give the cash to Hamilton

and gets Warren appointed.

Messier knew about the
transfer of Baitfish...

...ran in the same circles
as Sasha Broussard,

had jurisdiction
over the port.

Done good, Cassius.

Maybe not such
a bad man after all, huh?

Need to find
a safe place for that.

I got it.
Chris.

Look, this is mine, okay?

I got to deal with
this, not you.

Talking helps.

I'm not sure it does.

Patton tracked
Messier's phone.

Got us a location.

Blue Grass Inn?

Yeah, shut down
five years back.

Two points of entry.

JPSO will meet us for support.

We'll approach
from the front.

Lot of exposure
to the back.

Deputies and I will cover
that side, scoop up anyone

you guys flush out.
Good idea.

Patton will keep track
of Messier's signal,

lead us over the comms.

You ready?

Ready.

Let's go roll this
piece of scum up.

I got the layout in front of me.

Tracking your position.

Tactical team on the move.

Take the first hallway
to your left.

Directly across the courtyard,
up the stairs.

Room 75.

Messier's here.
Brody, call the paramedics.

Who did this to you?

Who did it to you?!

Bastard with a tattoo.

I smell gas.

This guy?

Yeah.

Dwayne, I never meant for this.

King, there's a trigger mechanism.

This place is
gonna blow.

Brody, the room's hot--
get everybody back.

Go on, get out.

Go on. I'll take care of him.

Like hell.

Come on.

Where's Ekpo
and Turay?

I don't know.

You killed Baitfish
to keep the ports open,

to let
the terrorists in.

It's not like that.
Oh...

Sasha seduced me,

made me an offer,

more money than
I'd ever seen.

I'd get crate numbers,

give them to Warren
to let them through.

But, I swear, I didn't
know what was in this one.

Warren screwed up.

Couldn't risk him talking.

As he begged for his life,

he told me who he'd let in.

Expect me
to believe that?

Doesn't really matter what
you believe anymore, does it?

Excuse me.
Need to take him.

Bank or banker.

Heard him say it
a couple of times.

Hey, Pride,
I got something here.

Pulled a couple things from the
room that might be of interest.

This made it
through the explosion.

- Built to withstand heat.
- What is it?

DM51. The canister's
ballistics-grade.

What about the filaments?

No clue there.
Brody?

Turns out terrorists and
my father have similar taste.

SD card reader, transfers photos
onto your computer.

Same one I got last Christmas.

It's no good without the card.

One gig backup storage.

Dad says it's a value buy.

If Ekpo's taking photos,
I need to know of what.

Figure that out...
We'll know where he's been.

Or, even better,
where he's going.

Get the canister
to Sebastian,

the reader to Patton.

Tell them...

To learn things.

Looks kind of like a Monet.

Ekpo's photo files,
burnt to hell.

I can't make out
a damn thing.

Want some help?

Think you helped yourself
to enough already.

I can explain.

Look, it's not my
business, really.

I just passed along
what I found,

now you got to take it
up with the big guy.

Wait. Back up.

Blow that up.

It's a handle of a saber.
You see that?

It's from a mural on
the containment wall

of the Naval Operational
Support Center in Baton Rouge.

Pass it every Sunday on my way

to the farmers' market
in Livingston.

You drive two hours for produce?

Hey, kale is
important to me.

Look, if this base
is their target...

Hundreds of servicemen's
lives is at stake.

Yeah.
I got to let Pride know.

Oh.

And just so you know,
I vouched for you.

Command is on lockdown.

Had our security watch team
canvass the base for breaches,

learned we'd already been hit.
Attack?

Not exactly.

Couple hours back, the
roving sentry found

the rear-access
door broken in.

Carry on.

This is where you keep
deactivated Navy weaponry?

Yes, before they're shipped
to Defense Logistics.

.30 caliber Browning
machine gun,

AT4 and M72 rocket launchers,

and then here...

...M252 mortar.

Last night, there were two.

Cannon's got
a range of 3.7 miles,

fires 81-millimeter
mortar rounds,

burst radius of 40 meters.

It's enough boom to take out
an entire city block.

But our missing mortar launcher
doesn't have a firing pin.

Which you could
work around,

but, even so, can't be fired
without propellant charges.

Unless they already
go'em.

Just off ATF's wire,

four rings of M220
propellant was stolen

from Dinex Munitions
in St. George.

If Ekpo's got the propellant...

Mortar's operable.

Wordy and Nerdy's
back with the hand raise.

All right, notify
Homeland Security.

And FBI.

Pulling up a map
of sensitive targets

within a 200-mile radius.

We are in the dark.

City more at risk than ever.

Steel can,

utterly fire-resistant,

able to withstand
extreme pressure,

and the strings are
carbon fiber filaments,

conduct electricity.

You put 'em both together,
you get a blackout bomb.

Now, blackout bombs were
first used by the U.S.

in the Gulf War.

They targeted Iraq's
main power facility.

The whole country
went dark.

All this for a power outage?

All this for Chernobyl.

Cans are packed
into a mortar shell

that's launched
at a nuclear generator.

Once the shells reach
a certain altitude,

the cans open,

releasing a dense cloud
of razor-thin filaments.

Those filaments slide
into the grid,

create mini electrical fires,

work their way back to the core,
cause meltdowns.

How many nuclear plants
along the Mississippi watershed?

Twenty-one.

But there are five
in the immediate area.

One of those gets hit,

the runoff contaminates
the whole waterway.

Radiation poisoning
up and down the river.

Tens of thousands
of people exposed.

"What you take from us,
we take from you""

We don't figure out
what the target is,

Ekpo's prophecy comes true.

Nuclear Support Team
is being assembled.

Where you at?
Given the amount of propellant,

Ekpo would have to be
within a mile of a reactor

to hit his target.

Security perimeters
have been set up

in a four-mile radius
of the generators, so...

it's hard to see how
he pulls this off.

He wouldn't have come
all this way

if he didn't have a plan.

Roads are blocked...
no-fly zone in place.

Boat?

Wobbles too much.

Tides make launching anything
impossible.

What about...

an island?

There's dozens of them.

Peak, Satchwan,

Bankers, Milton...

Bank...

Bankers.

Messier said

they kept saying that word.

How far is Bankers Island
from the nearest generator?

Less than a quarter
of a mile from...

Greybridge Energy
Nuclear Power Facility.

Same company whose pipeline fire

killed Ekpo's family.
Let's gear up.

Less than a minute out.

Coast Guard?

On their way.
JPSO, too.

They'll be here
in 20 minutes.

We're not waiting.

All right.

Island's two square miles.

Gotta move fast and quiet.

We got the island,
you got the shoreline.

Anybody spots Ekpo
or his partner,

radio for help.

Everyone there at HQ?

Standing by to support you
like an underwire bra.

I... I raise my hand, and
it's the end of the world,

and somehow
that's appropriate?

Underwire's
a serious back saver.

Don't knock it till you try it.

Nothing on the south side.
We'll circle back.

Got it.

Mortar launcher.

Right by the lake.

Dead east
of the boat landing.

We're five minutes out.

Headed back your way now, King.

I got the launcher,
but no sign of any of the...

I'm taking fire!

Hold tight!

Lasalle, keep due east. You're
about a quarter of a mile out.

King. King, you all right?

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

Turay's down.

You gotta find Ekpo.

On it.

Patton.

Sending you a photo.

Found their landing point.

No sign of our man.

All right, keep looking.

Patton, talk to me.

That's an RF transmitter.

With an SW-1
trigger mechanism.

Meaning?

Firing pin has been replaced

with a remote detonator.

Hell, Ekpo must have it.

You can dismantle
that transmitter

by removing the encoder chip...

And the 18-pin dill socket.

Find the blue wire
and yank it out.

I got this.

No.

Too late, Ekpo.

What did you do?

Firing the bomb...

wouldn't have ever
brought your family back.

Do you have a family?

Then they will feel the pain
that I do.

Pride! Lasalle! You guys okay?

Better now.

This reminds me of
picking snow peas

with you when
you were a kid.

Except I don't remember the...

barbed wire or
the armed guards.

And I don't remember you ever
getting beat up like that.

But I heard you done good,
though.

With your help.

Ask me what's in here.

More fun that way.

Copycat.

Letter to the parole board.

Highlighting
what you done

and giving my support

to watch over you,
should they grant release.

Might be time you came home.

I could be helpful to you.

Give you an insight into
the makings of a corrupt mind.

Thank... thank you,
thank you, son.

Think I might even look good
with a badge.

Don't get ahead
of yourself, Dad.

That's better.

Wanted to see me?

You lied
about getting permission

from your resident in charge.

And you hacked into our budget?

I...

I wanted to see if...

you had room for another agent.

Why not just ask?

Because if you ask,

sometimes people say no.

"Better to put your head down
and just barge in."

Exactly.

I've been working on my own
for so long,

and with everything
that we've gotten done...

I'm just thinking
there's some appeal.

Be part of a family.

This family.

Your family.

Okay, Lasalle.

Let me see it.

What?
The medallion.

Brody...

I am not taking no
for an answer.

Thank you.

So, this...

was my sister's.

Bought it from
this Gypsy lady

on our Europe trip;
she said it was good luck.

She never took it off.

And now this...

will not get lost.

I can't.

You and Pride have been
amazing to me.

Made me feel like...

I'm home.

And, uh... I, uh...

I hadn't felt that
since I lost her.

So I would be honored

if you would please wear this.

Let's gather everybody up!

SCIF room again?

Not exactly.

What's going on?

I just think that
raising your hand

is a basic foundation of
all modern civilization.

A grown-ass man
raising your hand?

That's worse than your
moon landing conspiracy.

That flag is flapping
in the breeze, man.

That's fundamentally
impossible!

Oh, come on.

That's attractive to you?

Sense of humor,
top of my list.

Lasalle knows a bunch
of knock-knock jokes.

Tell her one.

Loretta...

Sazerac...
light on the bitters.

Oh, you never forget.

They're safe for tonight.

Tonight.

Tomorrow is
another story.

This city.

One of a kind.

♪ To the ends of the Earth
would you follow me? ♪

♪ There's a world that was meant
for our eyes to see... ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man