Seven Seconds (2018): Season 1, Episode 5 - Of Gods and Men - full transcript

As cops come under suspicion, Marie receives a surprise visitor, Isaiah worries about Latrice's stability, and Seth asks an old friend for help.

You got your mommy's looks.


Just chill.

So sweet.

I think you like that one.

What the fuck are you two doing here?

Morning to you too, Pete.

Mr. Sunshine, this guy.

You ain't a miserable bastard
like your old man, right, Mikey?

- 'Course you're not.
- Where's Marie?

She ran out to Newport
to get stuff for the christening.

- You weren't picking up your phone.
- Me and T are your babysitters.

Kid's fucking cute.
Don't look like you at all.

You just gonna stand there?

Just leave everything inside.
There's more in the car.

No one else could watch Mikey
besides Frick and Fuck in there?

I left him with his aunt
and a cop, what more do you want?

Not them in my house
when I come home.

You and T have been fighting
since we were kids and I'm tired of it.

Jesus. Anything but empty shelves left
in Newport?

There's so many odds and ends
going into this christening.

Even picked us up a couple of hankies.

Figured we'd be bawling our eyes out.
I'll show you what I got inside.

I can't. I gotta get back to work.

You just got here, Petey.

I haven't seen you since yesterday
at breakfast.

Haven't slept since then neither,
so don't start.

You think I slept?

You didn't want me working,

but these double shifts
are getting too much.

You got all kinds of issues with my hours,
but not with buying all this shit.


You've reached
Assistant Prosecutor KJ Harper.

Leave a message.

Where the fuck are you, KJ?

Where are we going?

Taking you for a sitdown
with the assistant prosecutor.

The courthouse is the other way.

We're going to her apartment.

- Help! Help! Somebody help me, please!
- Hey, hey, hey, listen.

- I know you're scared...
- Hey! Get off!

- Help me! Get off me! Help!
- Hey. Just... stop.

- Look, look, look, look! Hey, look.
- Please help me!


There you go.

Okay, send that to your... the boyfriend,
or BFF, or fucking Chat Snap.

Fuck, whatever. All right?

Some killer I'd be
putting that all over the net, right?

Ew, I look fat. Gross. Here.

You have to put it down,
like at an angle. See?

Okay, now that we're done with that,
are we good?

Okay, here's what's gonna happen.
You're gonna sit still.

I'm going to go talk to the lawyer.
Okay, swear to God, she's a friend.

She's gonna help us. Okay?

I didn't know that they were cops.

It'll be okay. Okay?

You're home. I thought you were at work.
I was just about to call you.

- 'Saiah, I just saw the man.
- Saw who?

The man from Brenton's hospital room.

The one that left the seagull.

So, I need you to go back there with me
so we can talk to him together.

Viola called from school,
said you didn't show up for work.

Yeah, that's because I saw him!
He's a cop, 'Saiah.

And I know where he lives
'cause I followed him home.

- So let's go.
- Baby.

- Come in here and sit down for a minute.
- Why? Sit down for what?

- Tricey, just for a minute.
- We need to talk to him.

I understand. Yes.
Let's just talk for a minute.


What is this?

I brought Pastor here because you're...
you're scaring me, Trice.

No. No, we don't have time
to do this right now.

You're not sleeping, baby.

We've been married 20 years,
you didn't think I'd notice?

Your husband tells me
you aren't eating either.

Seeing people who aren't there.

We could be talking to him
instead of standing here, 'Saiah.

He could be answering our questions!

Questions about what?

What happened to Brenton!

We may never know what happened.

And the only one who might ever know
is God.

God didn't run my son down in the street
and leave him to die.

A man did that.

Latrice, I've seen a lot of people
through this sort of thing.

It's rough,
but the ones who come out of it,

who keep their heads above water,

they lean into Him.

I was in that church singing his praises
while my son was dying in a ditch.

Lean? You want me to lean?

I never prayed for anything harder
in my life than for my son to live.

All the while, somebody else
was praying for him to die.

So I'm done praying to a God
who answers a murderer over a mother.

Doesn't know what she's saying.
Head is spiraling.


I am very clear about what I'm saying.

I know that I am in this house bleeding,
every day, all day,

but I'm doing it by myself.

- Why don't we all take a moment...
- What'd you say?

You never loved Brenton the way I did.

You never gave him an inch, Isaiah.
You never let him breathe.

If he ever wanted anything,
he came to me, not you.

He came to you for coddling.

You spoiled that boy when some discipline
might've kept him out of that gang,

kept him alive!

- No. No, no.
- Trice, I'm sorry.

I didn't mean that.

Got grand jury coming up
for that corner bust.

It's your collar, Officers.
It's your court date.

The fuck you doing?

Was a gift for Jablonski's kid,
but this cheap moron kept it for himself.

Hey, fuck that kid, he's got enough toys.
Check it out.


Both of you better make it
to grand jury on time.

I'm sick of them calling
because you dumb fucks overslept.

Sorry, DiAngelo, a lot of late nights.

Hard to kick Teresa out of bed.
She's always begging for round two.

Must know you need the practice.

Where's the fucking coffee in this place?

Don't bother, we gotta take off.

Might be some punks moving in
on Ocean and Stedman.

We're gonna sit on it overnight.

No, no, no. It's a twohander.

Better take me, then.

Rook's been moaning all morning
about being wiped.

I'm good. Let's go.

Kid says he's fine. Sit down.

Maybe bring back a lollipop for Wilcox.

Might help with his abandonment issues.

- Fuck you, you got Mexican issues.
- Except I'm Puerto Rican, you prick.

It's all the fucking same though, right?

Should've killed that motherfucker
back at the trap house.

Holy shit, it's two tacos and a tamale.

What the fuck that even mean?

You know, like two peas in a pod,
except Mexican.

Real fucking funny, man.

You should take that show on the road.

What crawled up your ass?

Hey, you all right, man?

Yo, I gotta talk to you.



No, my phone didn't die.
I'm just choosing to ignore you.

You're blowing all the work we did
on this shit.

It better be fucking liquid crack.

It's Bombay gin and a squeeze of lime.

So, yeah.

It certainly is.

Our witness from the power plant,
the little girl...

she's outside in my car.

She put DiAngelo and his crew
in the park leaving the scene.

I know you got my fucking messages.

She didn't see the actual incident though,
did she?

She didn't see
who actually hit Brenton Butler.

All she saw were some narc cops in a park,
driving away.

Big fucking deal.

- Gotta get another.
- Sit down.

This is our chance to close this thing,
you dumb asshole.

DiAngelo isn't covering this up
for Joe Public,

he's likely doing it for personal reasons,
maybe another cop.

There's your fucking driver.

Whatever they're doing,
I don't want any part of it.

I can't keep driving around
with this witness forever.

And I guarantee I take her home,
Mom and Dad will lawyer her up.

They're not going to let
their little prep school junkie

testify in a murder trial.

You need to get her on record, now.

There's not gonna be any trial,
you dumb asshole,

because they're cops.

Who killed a 15yearold kid.

A black gang kid from the projects.

Yeah. You been in a courtroom lately?

No one cares about Brenton Butler.

His life does not factor
into the equation of this city.

It never fucking did
and it never fucking will.

So if you seriously think
that I'm losing everything over this,

then you're on crack,

liquid or otherwise.

This is for you. I'm really sorry.

And will you do me a favor
and get her another one on me?

Enjoy your everything.

Hope it's worth it.

- Can I help you?
- Yeah, I'm looking for a cop.

A cop that lives here. Your husband?

What's this about?

My son, Brenton...

Brenton Butler was killed
in a car accident a couple weeks ago.

I'm so sorry.

But I don't understand
how my husband can help you.

He came to the hospital
the night of the accident.

And he, um...

He left this.

This seagull belongs to Brenton.

And I need to talk to him.
I need to find out how did he get it.

I need to know what he knows

because I think he does know something
about who killed my son.

You must have the wrong house.

No! No, no, no. This is the right house.

When will he be back?

Um, look, I'm sorry, but you have a child.

Can you please just understand?

Um, just have him call me. All right?



My name is Latrice.

Latrice Butler.

And you can have him call me
at this number. Okay?


Okay, thank... thank you.

Please... Please have him call me?
Don't forget.

Thank you. Thank you.

Come on. Go home. Come on.

But I... Wait.
I still got a song in the queue.

You're done for tonight, KJ.

Come on.
You haven't heard me sing Aretha!

You should hear it. It's... It's good.

That's mine.


Hey! That's my car.

It's impound's car now.
You can have it back in an hour.

You can pick it up here.

I want my fucking car.

Hey, why don't you call a cab, all right?
Hey! Come on!

Lady, you can't be on here.

- I...
- Get off the truck.

- I will sue you for assault.
- Is there a problem here, sir?

Now you want to act like a cop.

Like you know how to do your fucking job.

- Excuse me?
- You heard me the first time.

She bothering you?

- I am an assistant prosecutor...
- All right. All right.

With the county, so you work for me.

So tell that fucking fuck
to give me my car back!

- Ma'am, ma'am, ma'am, ma'am.
- Damn it!

All right, calm down.

You need a ride to the impound lot?
Or help getting home?

I'm fine.

So why don't you mind
your fucking business, Eckerd?

I tell you what to do.
I'm in charge here, not you, Eckerd.

You're all racist assholes.
Every one of you cops.

- I know she's here.
- She who?

- Latrice.
- What?

- She ain't come home last night.
- She ain't here neither.

- Latrice!
- Boy, don't be screaming down my place.


Y'all grown ass men.

Daddy would've hated seeing you like this.

You living here now?

Marcelle can barely take care of herself
and got you up under her arm like this?

Why didn't Tricey come home last night?
What'd you do?

I know she like that park on St. Peters.

You want,
I can help you come look for her.


You gonna get your Five Kings on it?

Have your thugs out there
looking for my wife?

Damn, man. You're like a dog with a bone.
Ain't even about that.

- It's all about that.
- Hey.

Tricey gone is my fault?

Everything my fault? That what you saying?

Y'all need to see this. Look.

They're saying it was a cop
who killed Brenton.

It's hitting you hard, doubleduty.

Nah. I love it. I'm a big fan.

The wife's an even bigger one.

Yeah, I bet.

Especially now with little Mikey.

Wasn't in the cards for me, kids.

I, I...

I really wanted them though.

The team's my family.

Yours too.

I'm talking Wilcox when he marries Teresa
and becomes your inlaw.

Don't even joke about that shit.

The motherfucker's gonna be over
at your place at Christmas.

Hand down the front of his pants,

farting fucking "Deck the Halls"
for the kid.

Channel 9 News here live...

Officers were allegedly involved...

Everyone gather around.

I'm guessing you all seen
the news by now.

They're saying cops from our district
are behind that kid's hitandrun.

Until we get a handle of what went down,
no one says shit.

As far as the press is concerned,
the South's gone deaf, dumb, and blind.

A reporter shoves a mike in your face,
point them to the Chief's office.

They're handling PR.

Know which cops
are being fingered for this?

- Or if the case has legs?
- Yeah.

I know as much as you do,
which is jack shit.

Which doesn't sit well,
since the cop who caught the case

owed me a headsup.

Who is this Fish,
whatever the fuck his name is?

The guy's from across the fucking river.
Paint hasn't even dried on his locker yet.

New York City boy lands on this side
of the river and starts stirring shit.

Hopefully eyes on this thing
will stay local.

Shit storm will blow over
in a couple of weeks.

I know that you are all good police.

But that never stopped a fucking reporter
with an itch.

So everyone check their ass.

Good police work.

Get everything on record.


You land on cops,
I want to hear it from you,

not some fucking reporter
calling for comment.


Luis Carillo from the Journal just called,

wanting to know which officers we're
investigating on the Butler hitandrun.

The press knows?

Who leaked it?

Goddamn it, KJ,
how could you let this happen?

I didn't.

I would never do that to you
and you know it.

How bad is this?

We think we're looking at four officers.

Three were identified
at the scene of the crime,

and I need to find the driver first
before arresting the others.

Well, who are the three?

Michael DiAngelo, Felix Osorio,
and Manny Wilcox.

Fucking great.
That's the city's star task force.

All these reduced crime stats

I'm blowing out my ass
on the campaign trail is due to them.

Don't worry.

It's not going forward.

I already told the detective working it
to drop it.

Why? Does the case not hold weight?

- Carillo told me you had a witness.
- Yeah, a 15yearold heroin junkie.

Media's all over this, KJ.
All anybody's gonna do is see color.

We've gotta move forward.


Count me out.

I'm not switching prosecutors
midstream. How is that gonna look?


A black female prosecutor's
better for optics.

Fuck that.

You have a nice collection of us.

No one would even notice
if you switched me out.

God, James.

Believe me...

you don't want me on this.

You think you'd be tired of it by now,
constantly looking in your rearview.

You know what I'm tired of?

You constantly using my past against me.

Using it when you need a carrot
or a stick.

This case is yours.
You fought for it, you're stuck with it.

I'm calling a press conference
later today. I expect you there.

- Fish Rinaldi.
- Yeah.

I gotta ask,
where'd you get the nickname?

My CO at the academy
stuck me with it.

I failed the swimming test twice,
so Fish it was.

- Which academy you go to?
- College Point.


Not Stamler over on this side
of the river?

You know, most transfers, they come over,

they do some time at our academy,
at least a year on patrol.

But not you.

You hopscotched over all that.

I always wondered if Fish Rinaldi

was some spoiled rich shit
with connections.

Is that it?

You a spoiled rich shit?

- I'm a cop doing my job.
- Your job's locking up other cops now?

I miss a memo?

The job's locking up bad guys.

Which one of my guys are you calling bad?

The news leaked
before we could nail anybody down.

We still don't have any specifics,
so no names.

You're a cool one, I'll give you that.

You expect me to buy that?

I expect you to let me do right by this
kid, which isn't easy given the visuals.

Thought you of all people
would understand.

Only color I see is blue.

That's the only color
anyone in my district sees.

Hey. Look at this.


Hey, look who's here.


- Hang on a sec, all right?
- Pathetic, you know what I mean?

What does she want?

I'm looking for Detective Rinaldi.

Have a seat at his desk.

Hey, you want to take a seat?

- What the fuck?
- Want a desk to go with that chair?

Where you gonna hide
your Tampax box now, Fish?

Fucking children.

Take her with you. Gone fishin'.

Fish! Fish!

Hey! Why would you leak the story?

Me? What the fuck you talking about?
It was you.

It wasn't me.

Maybe it was one of the cops.

- Maybe one of them grew a conscience.
- Why are you here?

What the fuck do you want?

Connelly said
I had to keep working this case.

We need to get logs for any autos
the narc unit might've used.

That's not gonna happen.

It's too late. We had our chance,
but now they scrubbed all that.

Auto logs, motor pool signins,
all fucking gone, guaranteed.

Want to find that blue car?

It's in the bottom of the Hudson,
next to my fucking desk.

But hey, you got to belt out
some Anita Baker, right?


We have a witness.

Connelly thinks I already got her ID
of DiAngelo and the others on record.

And I didn't correct him.

Let's start with getting her ID
of the three, okay?

How are we gonna get a photo to her
if you can't get into the system?

Smile for the camera, motherfuckers.

When Paul speaks of stewardship,

he is giving Christians
a special charge to...

Excuse me, everybody.

Brother Butler.

Anybody seen Latrice?

She ain't been seen.

- She's been missing since yesterday.
- No.

You check with your family?

I checked everywhere. I can't find her.

I think she might be in some trouble.

Y'all get on your phones
calling everyone

or out in your cars looking everywhere,
all right?

Yes, sir.

Let's practice stewardship right now.

Let's put our faith in practice.

God bless.

Be strong, brother.



It's Latrice Butler from yesterday.

It's okay, baby.


Hello! Mrs...


Hurry, hurry, hurry. Go, go, go.



Come on, come on, come on.

Go, go!

Dad, you see that?

Nice. Yeah, I saw that, man.

Go again, I'm watching.

See you more in the last week
than the last ten years.

Not complaining though.

Heard it was cops
that took down little man.

Shit's fucked up, man.

Back in the day,
we was wideeyed like that.

Coming up here, looking out,
believing it's all out there for us,

just waiting to be snatched.

That young, ain't been hit
with the real yet.

But the real is just waiting
to swallow you whole.

Nah, bro, it ain't that deep.

World looks at you sideways,
you get on your hustle.

I boxed this city and I boxed a bullet.

Now, I'm on top
of the motherfucking world, man.

King of the game.

I want back in, blood.

What you need, bank? A place to stay?

- Whatever, I got you.
- No, no.

This ain't that, all right?

I'm already owing you
for the hospital bills.

I want back in.

What? You done being
"all that you can be"?

That it?

Left you did.

You got your own way.
You found your own life.

Yo, what life, man?

What life?

- I'm staying up in my nephew's bunk bed.
- Well, go put on a uniform again.

Over there is the same as here.

At least y'all ain't fronting
like you something you ain't.

Soldiering with you
was the last time shit was solid.

Made sense.

You said you got me, whatever.

It's what you said, right?

Whatever, 'Siah.

All right, let's do this.

I'll have one of the boys put you up.
Set you up on Woodlawn and Ocean.

Nah, I ain't worked a corner
since I was 14 years old, man. Come on.

The fuck you think this is? A temp agency?

You work what I say.

Maybe we cut out, Mike.
Get the fuck out while we still can.

Maybe we hang a giant pointer over us

that says, "Lookee here.
We did this shit."

"We"? What the fuck you talking "we"?
Wasn't me who killed that fucking kid.

All right, Einstein,
let's hear what you got.

I ain't doing ten years at Trenton
over this.

Nobody's doing nothing, all right?

The scene was clean, I made sure of that.

That SUV's a fucking soda bottle by now,
so what do they got?

They got a fucking drunk running point,
a reject from the city riding shotgun.

We're good. Everyone level the fuck out.

They got a witness. A kid you said
we didn't have to worry about.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

- What the fuck is he talking about?
- She's a fucking junkie.

She's a junkie. Who cares?

You knew there was a witness?

She didn't see nothing.
I made sure of it, all right?

- We're in the clear.
- Open your eyes, man!

If she didn't see us, how come they know
it was cops that did it?

I've been wondering the same thing myself.

How you wet your fucking panties
over that girl.

How you been moaning since jump,
on me about Dorsey,

about shoveling too much shit
for the new guy.

Here I am, trying to cover all our asses.

I never stopped once to think
who might've put them out there.

You saying I leaked this shit?
Why the fuck would I do that?

You know, not for nothing,
you did come at me

when that reporter came talking to you.

Me and Carillo were bullshitting.
Didn't mean noth...

You're fucking bullshitting
with the guy from the paper

who broke the story?

No, man, Osorio ain't like that.

I got the same rope around my neck
as you.

What sense would that make,
giving us all up?

Hey, hey!

- Fuck.
- Yeah.

Maybe you got a little something
on the side.

You making a deal behind our backs?

Let a little something slip
to your gata?

Don't you walk away from me.

I never said nothing to that reporter.
I never said nothing to nobody.

Fuck you if you don't believe that shit.

Are you telling me Osorio did this shit?

You telling me he didn't?

What you want to see me about?

A couple weeks back,
me and my boys here

were trying to break your boy Goldie
on Stevens Ave.

February 15, morning of, trying to pin him
for a couple eight balls.

Just so you know what went down
anyone comes asking.

So if y'all in the projects
busting heads that morning,

that leaves y'all clear of the park.

Sure you weren't wiping no Brenton Butler
off your whip?


Shooting us in the back
got a little too easy?

You just bring me your boy Goldie.

I'll put him on the same page.


the thing about Goldie is that his memory
is a little patchy, you feel me?

So it's gonna take a little time
to get it tight.

Time off the street. Time that costs me.

My cut lowers by two points.
That enough for your time?

Best make that four points.

This shit is digging
into our fucking pockets now?

Hey, what you rather,
four points or four fucking years?

At least now we got cover.

But none of that means shit
if someone puts us at the scene.

Now what about the fucking witness?

Get the fuck out of here.



Where you going?

My parents said I can't talk to you.

Yeah, when did you become
Miss ByTheBook?

Our lawyer's name is Marty Shane.
You have questions, ask him.

Come on, I just need you to make an ID
for the prosecutor.

Nothing's easier. She's right here.

KJ Harper, it's nice to finally meet you.


Come on. Nadine.

The men you saw in the park that morning,
they in this photo?

I said I can't help you.

You can, but you just won't.
There's a difference.

You know who they are.
We gotta put it on the record.

Just point, Nadine. Come on.

Besties forever, right?

These are all the cops
in the South District.

The photo was taken a few months ago.

Come on.

All you gotta do is point.

No, Nadine. Come on.

You took his boots. The least you can do
is help find who killed him.

- Hey, what are you... Let me handle it.
- Let go of my car door.

You go in that ditch
and pull those boots off his feet?

What? No! My God!
I didn't even see him.

- It's not my fault what happened.
- Of course not. Let me handle this.

You didn't maybe wonder why
there was a kid's pair of boots

lying in the snow in the middle of nowhere

with blood everywhere?

I didn't see any blood.

I didn't see anything except
those stupid fucking seagull boots!

So what if I took them? Fuck off!

- Hey, come on. Hey, lis...
- Fuck off!

Nadine, come on!

What was the point of that shitshow?

She's just a kid. You treat her
like she's some kind of suspect?

I'm talking to you!

There was a seagull in his bike.

And on his shoes, in his bedroom.

And Latrice said
she saw a man with a seagull.

So what?

You went through the evidence
when you told me shoes were missing.

- You logged the bike too, right?
- Yeah, of course I did.

What about this? Did you log this?

Did you see the seagull or not?

The Property and Evidence sheet
is in there. I don't know. I...

"Bike, jeans, hoodie, socks,
undershirt, underwear."

No seagull.

It was never logged into evidence,
but... but it was right here.

Well, it never made it to the district.

Latrice said a man came
into Brenton's hospital room that night,

and he left a paper seagull with Brenton.

Only a cop could've taken that
from the crime scene.

- That's the driver.
- Yeah.

What'd you do with her?
What'd you do with my wife?

You people killed my son.
If you laid a finger on Latrice...

Take it easy. What are you talking about?

We're here because we want to find
who hurt Brenton.

We need to talk to your wife. She might
be able to ID the man who did it.

She's been missing since yesterday.

Look, she... she said she saw the man
from Brenton's room.

Saw him on the street.

Said he was a cop.

I gotta keep looking for her.

Mr. Butler.

I think I might have an idea where she is.

Have you tried the park?





- Where were you?
- Why'd you bring that cop here?

I know you don't trust them,
but maybe they can help.

Mrs. Butler?

Mrs. Butler...

I know that everything
you're hearing in the news

about the police being responsible...

you're scared and you don't know
who you can trust right now.

But everyone here, right now,
we all want the same thing.

To find who killed your son.


We need you to identify the man you saw
in Brenton's hospital room.

This is the entire South District.

Take your time.

So this is all the police, then?

Are you sure this is all of them
in the district?


He's not here.

Are you sure?

The man you saw yesterday, the cop,
his face must be fresh in your mind.

We'll get you back with a sketch artist.

That man wasn't the man at the hospital.

I went to his house. I saw him.

- I made a mistake.
- You said you were sure.

I was emotional.

And I wasn't seeing things clear.

I was wrong.

Do you have the seagull he left?
We can test it for prints.

I threw it away.


South District, Sergeant Mahoney.

This is DiAngelo.

Listen, about that old power plant
near the park.

Keep eyes for a junkie, white girl,

15, 16, purple streak in her hair,
goes by "Nadine."

It's lowkey.

Let me know if she comes in.
I need to have a little talk with her.

Yeah, okay, D.

A woman came here.

She said you know something
about her son.


The accident on the news,
the car accident.

Petey, quit looking at me like
you don't know what I'm talking about.

The SUV isn't in the shop, is it?

It was me.

It was me that hit him.

I was going to the hospital and I...

I wanted to help him.

But DiAngelo, he...

He told me to drive away.

What do you want me to do?

I'll turn myself in. I'll do it right now.



You won't.

She lost a child.

So did we.

I held our baby girl in my arms
and I thought I was gonna die too,

but I didn't.

I stayed for you.

For us.

This is about our family.

Our son.

Not hers.

I don't care about that woman.
I don't care about her son.

So whatever you did, that's on you.

You need to find a way to live with it.

Because you're not leaving me alone.

With no husband...

no money, and a twoweekold baby.

That's not the life you promised me.

That's not the life I want.

We should get in the house,
get you something to eat.

We were upset yesterday.

We're both grieving.

We didn't mean none of what was said.

So let's go in the house,
get you something to eat.

I'm not going in the house with you.

I know you spent years to get us here.

Doubleshifts, late nights.

And I got a house, but...

lost you, though.

Wanting a better life for my family,
that's a crime now?

I wanted the same thing.

Just never going to be enough love
in that house to make it home.

Love, love? Don't... Don't talk to me
about love or what you want.

This is just the grief talking.


It's me talking.

I've been wondering
why Brenton loved those birds so much.

And that's why I went out there today.

Not to the place where he died,
but where he lived.

I wanted to see what he saw.

And I saw the sky went on forever.

And I saw light.

So much light.

That's what Brenton saw.

He saw how big life is.

Tell me you knew that
about your son, Isaiah.

Tell me you didn't believe your son
was in a gang.

I know that's what you want to hear.

But if I'm going to be honest...

before you and God...

it's the bike.

How'd he get that bike?

You coming inside?


We should arrest DiAngelo
and those other two fucks right now.

We need the fourth guy.
He was probably our driver.

And if we go after the other three first,

we might spook him
and lose the guy actually responsible.

You want to risk that?

Where's Connelly?

That's good.

We appreciate you understanding, Jimmy.


- We need to talk.
- Now isn't a good time.

I need to interview South District police,
all of them.

Our suspect took something
from the crime scene.

There has been a change of plans.

It would be reckless to say
the police are suspects at this point.

But they are, and it's already out there.

Not to mention it's the truth.

Socalled truth that we still can't prove.

Give me the funds to hire
an accident expert.

Look, I can narrow down the search
for this blue car.

I need to talk to the district police.

Calling out the cops this early

would create nothing but a dangerous
atmosphere in our community.

Who wrote that line for you,
your press secretary,

or the brass
you were clusterfucking just now?

Don't talk about the car.
Don't talk about the cops.

We do this my way.

- Fuck.
- Have fun circling the wagons.

First and foremost, my sincere
condolences to the Butler family.

I'm a father myself,

and I cannot even fathom the pain
that they are facing right now.

But despite what you are hearing
from some of your overzealous colleagues,

this investigation is still ongoing.

We have not landed on any suspects.

I'm devoting the full resources
of my office to this case

and have one of my best and brightest,
assistant prosecutor KJ Harper,

leading the charge. Luis.

Jersey City PD and the prosecutor's office
share an especially close relationship.

How will you keep that bias
from affecting the case?

If I can remind you, Luis,
it was the press who pointed to the cops.

My office is still doing
its due diligence.

And whatever the outcome,
we will remain impartial.

So you're saying cops aren't suspects?

I'm saying that whoever is responsible,
Brenton Butler deserves justice.

His family deserves it.

It's a simple question.
Are you looking at cops...

- It is too early to say definitively.
- Yes, it's too early to say definitively

how many cops are involved.

But we know they were cops
from the South District.

- You saying there was a coverup?
- Know the motive behind the killing?

As the prosecutor stated,

the investigation is in its early stages.

But we do know one of the perpetrators
left the scene in a blue vehicle.

So if anyone has any information
on the vehicle or on its owner,

I urge you to contact
the prosecutor's office.

- Is there something you're not telling us?
- Thank you. Thank you.

How high up could this go, KJ?

Thank you.

You have any questions for me?

Thank you. You. Thank you very much.

Okay, thank you. Thank you, everyone.
Thank you.


Janie, no one's coming in here.
Come on, baby. Come on.

What the fuck?

Motherfucker! I'll kill you!

Where is she?

Where's Nadine?