And the e-file authorization, sign and date.
See? Virtually painless.
Same thing your mom always said.
She also used to say that your dad and you
were her favorite clients.
None of that "procrastinating till April 14th" crap.
Those are mine.
Okay.
Till next year, then.
I'm not sure you should wait till then.
Wait for what?
Whatever the bad news is.
When I was studying to be a CPA,
my mom would always take me to client meetings,
get the feel for it.
I always used to get the willies coming to yours.
Why?
I was always like, "Do I have a joint in my bag
"or an unpaid ticket in the glove box?
Because he'll know."
Okay. Full immunity.
Melissa, it's pretty hard to get off the 14th floor
without my say-so.
When my mom passed away, I went through all the files
to get up to speed with my new clients,
including your father's.
Okay.
He had her making monthly payments to someone.
Her files only go back
12 years, but I get the feeling it's been even longer than that.
Any notation in her accounting?
Uh, no charitable deductions, no nothing.
Just cash disbursements.
Only cash?
Thanks.
Nice place.
Yeah, unfortunately, this'll probably go on the market
if we're here.
- What do you got? - Ted Bradley, 58.
Runs a big ad agency that comes up with names
for new pharmaceuticals.
Lipetra, Thunderlax, whatever those things are.
Downstairs neighbors heard a commotion and they called it in.
Well, that'll get the job done.
And a wallet and a Rolex Daytona
just out here in the open?
I'm not feeling this is a robbery.
Maybe the perp didn't want to take anything traceable.
$10,000 currency band,
minus the currency.
Guess that's not traceable.
- Get your hands off me! - Hey, hey, hey...
This is a crime scene. You cannot enter.
- Okay? Hey! - Knock it off now!
- This is my family home! - Oh, the hell it is.
- What are you talking about? - Hey, hey!
Who the hell are you two?
- I-I'm Ted Bradley's son. - So am I.
Well, first things first. What brought you two here?
I couldn't reach him.
He and I were supposed to have lunch.
What's going on?
He's dead.
What?
Oh, my God.
We're very sorry.
You thought he cut you off again,
- so you killed him. - What? No.
- Please. - No. There...
This is your guy right here.
Whoa, whoa. Hey!
Come on.
Get them out of here. Come on.
Ugh. This homework is gonna kill me.
"Foldable cell membrane"?
- Are you kidding? - It's so boring.
No, I was actually kind of hoping
that you would explain it to me.
Shut up, you're smart.
So maybe we could hang out later and you could help me?
Son of a bitch.
What does "ACAB" mean?
- "All cops are bastards." - Seriously?
Yeah, it's-it's a thing.
Maybe the janitor has something that'll clean it off.
- Did he sleep over? - Yeah, but on the couch.
You got more self-control than me.
I might have spent a little time on the couch with him.
Hmm.
And on the coffee table.
- Let me see that again. - Excuse me?
You're happily married.
You can look at the menu even though
you've already ordered, you know.
Uh-huh.
It's over there.
10-13. We got shots fired at 29042nd Avenue.
Possible active shooter.
Send a bus and additional units forthwith.
Copy, U29-Charlie.
Yeah. We're going in, Central.
He came back.
Who did?
He got fired,
but he came back. Okay.
Keep pressure on this.
I get what I'm owed or all of you die!
Do you hear me? Pay me my money!
Jerry, we paid you. We...
Police! Don't move!
- Okay. Okay. - Yeah.
- You okay? - Yeah.
Is he dead?
Yeah.
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
I'm Ted's real son.
Then that dick's mom over there broke up our family.
Well, he says your dad cut you off.
Because he convinced him to.
Look, my dad would buy whatever he was selling.
Uh, his family was screwed up way before my parents met.
His mom was a total alcoholic.
Well, if he hates yours, why kill his dad and not her?
She died last year. Uterine cancer.
And you know what he did?
He called me on the phone and laughed.
It's called karma. Same way he says it's only right
he got named Junior.
I mean, look at him over there.
He's so smug.
And you think, since you were firstborn,
that you should've gotten that?
And yet I got nothing.
Dad gave Gerald everything.
Time and money, and it went right up his nose
or into his arm.
Every chance he had in life, he blew.
So you think he killed your father for the money?
He'd gotten it into his head he'd been cut out of the will.
Must've snapped.
I've made some mistakes, but I loved my father.
Do you have any idea why
he might've had so much cash on him?
Ask Junior.
He'd be the one who put him up to it.
I'll do that.
The guy must've shot her first thing he walked in the door.
Let's get you checked out, okay?
- Let's go. - Why? I'm fine.
Eddie, I did what I had to do.
What we trained to do.
Which one of you took him out?
Uh, she did.
Thank you for saving us.
Attagirl.
Mr. Bradley is dead?
Yes.
Did you know him well?
Well, only in that I've been his banker for the last few years.
Well, is there anything you can tell us about him?
Oh, he was a sweet guy, very old-fashioned.
You know, didn't like ATMs.
Liked the interaction with real people.
Did he make any large withdrawals recently?
Yes. He came in yesterday.
He said he needed a hundred thousand.
So I suggested a cashier's check, but he wanted cash.
You know, he wouldn't even let our guard
deliver it to his house.
We'll need to see
- your security camera footage. - Sure.
Uh, he show any signs of depression lately?
You see any of that?
Oh, I don't know.
It was just a retail relationship, but...
But?
His wife passed away last year.
And have you met those two sons of his?
Did they bank here, also?
Oh, they're in every other week.
One will come in with Mr. Bradley to add his name
to his dad's accounts or change his PIN,
and then the other shows up to change it back.
Then everyone just starts yelling and screaming.
Did it ever get physical?
Uh, only verbal, but they'd even go after him.
You know, "You're a terrible dad,
you love him more than me," et cetera, et cetera.
That's why I tried to be sweet to him.
Mm-hmm.
Did either one of them seem capable of hurting him
or murder?
I just work in a bank.
Right, but you've seen them interact
and it hasn't always been pleasant.
He was a good man
with two ungrateful brats for children.
That's all I know.
Well, thank you for your help.
Mm.
Not that she was much help.
Well, she tried.
Reagan.
Yeah, Sean's dad.
They wrote what?
- What you doing? - Studying.
Studying, huh?
Mm-hmm.
What you studying?
Chemistry.
What you hiding?
Nothing.
Nothing?
How'd you find out?
Janitor told the principal,
principal called me.
Principal also let me know
that you not reporting bullying
is just as big a violation of the honor code
as the bullying itself.
So now I'm in trouble?
I didn't say that. I spoke to the principal.
You're not in trouble.
It's no big deal.
All your family members being referred to as "bastard"
is not a big deal to you?
I don't take the bait,
they don't get what they want,
and they just move on.
Look...
are you sure this is just some kid
who's a troll?
Who else would it be?
You remember that woman, the social studies teacher
who went after Nicky a few years ago?
- A teacher? - The certified cop hater
who was a cop hater long before
it became everyone's favorite hobby to hate cops?
That one?
Do me a favor and don't say nothing to her, okay?
Dad, no.
Just gonna suss her out, that's all.
No, you're not.
You know, I happen to be a pretty good detective.
Yeah. But this is my business.
So you're gonna butt out.
Go on, say it.
What?
Oh, I know. Something smells delicious.
Damn straight.
Good.
One of my few regrets
is that I learned how to really cook so late in life.
I bet you I could've saved
over a million bucks in takeout, you add it all up.
Saved for what?
What do you mean?
Well, somebody talks about savings,
they usually have a goal in mind.
Do I need a lawyer?
It's just a question, Pop.
Francis.
I remember how to lead a perp.
What the hell are you looking for?
Okay.
Melissa came to my office today.
That's privileged information.
What is?
What do you mean, what is?
Well, all I said was, she came to my office.
That's not privileged information.
This ends right now.
This is my business and mine only.
Which I respect...
Then show it.
You think I'm some old coot that's being scammed.
That's where this is going, right?
The only place it's going is you flying off the handle.
This is none of your business.
Back off!
I mean it.
Did you notice that lady giving us the eyeball?
Couple that was just in here did it, too.
Duh, you're in the papers.
- Nobody reads papers anymore. - Yeah, they do.
You're NYPD's shero.
Get used to it.
Hey, Murray, we'll take the check.
Uh, no can do.
Can't accept a meal on the arm.
No, sorry, but the last two customers bought your lunches.
Shero, shero.
Feels too good to stop, doesn't it?
Excuse me?
The outfits, the badges.
You may have people fooled but not me.
What are you talking about?
It's a setup.
That phony shooter, you fake cops...
Sorry, are you seriously saying...?
They're being paid by the government to keep you all scared.
But it's crap! Nothing happened yesterday
and they're liars!
They're crisis actors!
Hey, pal! What are you doing?
You need to calm down, sir.
You can't shut me up!
Nobody died yesterday!
The only thing that died was the truth, and I know it!
Watch out!
"Crisis actors"?
What?
Next up, disciplinary action on Officer Viviano.
Brian Viviano out of the 6-4.
Citizen filmed him asleep in his patrol car.
Viviano says he has a seizure disorder...
Which, by never reporting it,
is an infraction all by itself.
So, was he asleep or having a seizure?
He was asleep.
He says the seizure disorder makes him doze off.
- So, what, narcolepsy? - Well, he says no.
So the medication is what made him sleepy.
That-that gets into medical privacy territory.
Okay. Don't want to do that.
Um, just find out
if the guy was sleeping off a hangover.
Okay.
That is the list for...
One more thing.
Um...
I don't know whether this is out of line or not.
Frankly...
I'm a little embarrassed about it, but...
I was hoping you all could share something with me.
Shoot.
Okay.
How close were you to your dads in their later years?
Because?
Can't say.
Well, me and my old man weren't that tight.
Even till the day he died,
I'd call and he'd be like, "How's your money holding up?
How's your car running? Here's your mom."
Like he didn't really want to get into things with you?
Uh, I knew he loved me, in his way, you know.
I took it as a sign of respect.
Like, you know, "I'm not gonna pry."
I wish mine had some of that.
I got the overly involved, touchy-feely model,
what's now called helicopter parenting.
Even today, he sends clippings from the local paper,
showing me how their PD spokesman talks to the press.
I was his princess.
I could do no wrong,
and even when I did do wrong,
it was the fault of the boyfriend
or the crowd that I was with.
That clears up a lot.
Henry got a beef with you, boss?
Good guess.
I'm sorry to hear that.
Oh, my dad needs at least one beef a day.
Makes him feel vital and alive.
Being his roommate, that puts me in the starting rotation.
So wait it out till he lands on the next one.
Well, I would love to, but I...
I-I think I got to push back on this one.
Tough spot any way you cut it.
Yeah.
Can I ask one more favor,
between the three of you?
Could you find out the son of a bitch
that rents that P.O. box?
The really crazy part
is you telling your Dad to butt out.
- Oh, tell me about it. - He hammer you?
Kind of the opposite, actually.
Yeah, he-he got up, took his beer,
and went up to his room for the rest of the night.
Wow. I-I would have gotten a ten-hour lecture.
Then transferred to military school.
See?
Whoever it was, they forgot all about me.
Good news.
See you after phys ed.
Son of a bitch.
Well, I appreciate your honesty.
Don't even bother.
Killer has to be Gerald.
Really?
Yeah. Drug collars, failed rehabs.
He even broke into the apartment next door to his old man
a month ago, looking for cash.
Yeah, well, Ted Jr.'s ex-girlfriend
says he's a grade A creep.
I mean, yes, he's more successful,
yes, his dad hired him to work at his company,
but he still has a hell of a temper.
A couple of months ago, he assaulted a delivery guy
for bringing the wrong order.
You suggesting they pulled some kind of Menendez brothers move?
No. They hate each other.
Yeah, they do hate each other, don't they?
What?
Never mind. Nothing. It's a bad idea.
And that's stopped you... when?
Okay.
What if we bring them down here
and let them go toe-to-toe again?
And not tell 'em the other one's here?
Nah, we'll just light a fuse and watch it burn.
Hey. You ID'd our EDP?
Prints on the front door says his name is David Bowles.
In the system because of a DWI a few years back.
So, do I collar him?
It's the pizza guy that got cut.
He said to follow your lead.
No, he's just delusional. Locking him up won't help.
More delusional than you know.
You change your mind, call me.
Hey, Witten.
You're not gonna believe this.
You went down the rabbit hole, too?
- What rabbit hole? - Oh, on YouTube.
I looked up "crisis actors."
You won't believe the amount of crazy that's out there.
Our shooter, Sandy Hook, Parkland.
These conspiracy nuts are convinced that it's all fake.
Part of some psyops, false flag government operation.
Okay, well, it gets crazier.
The guy who called us crisis actors
is the father of the girl who died.
I mean, me and Jamie used to fight all the time,
but never like these two.
They say it's because of the old man,
but...
it's just an excuse.
We didn't need an excuse, did we?
Nope. We used to fight just for fun.
You two fought for fun?
Well, yeah.
Roughhousing, more like it, but, you know,
with fists and teeth.
Hockey sticks.
- Yeah, and lawn darts. - Ah.
Wonder why it is that Jack and I never fought like that.
Excuse me, I babysat,
and I distinctly remember you and Jack
jousting with the fireplace tools
and me having to throw away a certain rug.
Talking about the rug that Linda said
she threw away because you spilled red wine on it?
I did, after Sean's head split open.
What kind of babysitter
lets a kid's head
get split open, doesn't even tell the father about it?
We gave her
our allowance to stay quiet.
Oh, you bribed the babysitter? That's a sweet move.
Why am I not surprised?
Dad used to just let us battle it out,
and then Joe would take on the winner.
Whoa, wait. Dad encouraged it.
He was the referee.
Guess you were lucky Dad didn't have any other siblings
so you didn't have to break up all these fights, huh, Pop?
Lucky with him?
Not the word I'd use.
- Blessed, that's the word. - Ha.
But sometimes too stubborn to see it.
Anyone else need a sweater for the cold chill
- between these two? - Right here.
We're fine.
The hell we are.
Or we will be.
You guys want to tell us what's going on?
Ask him,
and if he says, "Mind your own business,"
ask him again and again and again.
Pop, that is not exactly how it went.
That is exactly how it went.
Something you two want to talk about?
I'm fine.
Apparently, it's all fine.
It seems fine.
You gonna do this all night?
Actually, I'm almost finished.
Pop, I am truly sorry.
I didn't mean to pry.
Actions speak louder than words.
Alex Van Helt.
Reactions speak louder than words.
Your point?
Well, I don't get it.
The department said it was a good shoot.
So, case closed, then and now.
Except for what?
Except that to this day, I don't know if it was true.
My partner saw a gun.
They never found it.
And you doubt your partner's word?
No. He thought Van Helt had a gun,
but I was the one who initiated the stop.
And from that, I put a guy into a wheelchair
for the rest of his life.
Pop...
you do know that Van Helt died nine years ago, don't you?
Someone keeps opening that P.O. box.
His wife, his kids.
I don't know.
Someone who needs money.
And if it gets out that the former PC
is giving cash to the victim
of what he considers a questionable shooting?
It will never get out.
I hope you're right.
And don't wind me up with that
"This will reflect badly on the department" crap.
I won't.
Lucky for you if you're one of the few
that don't carry any regrets.
That's not true. Of course I do.
Yeah, but if you do,
you can put them into a box.
You're good at that. I'm not.
I'm not good at it.
I just do it.
I've already answered your questions, Detective.
I know, but our investigating has led to some more questions
- that we need answering. - Right this way.
- What is he doing here? - Whoa.
Sorry, I didn't realize
you two were in here.
No, no problem at all. Uh...
Why don't you sit down, we'll make it a party?
No, not with this loser.
Oh, and you're such a winner?
Okay, time-out. Look, you, sit down.
Let's talk.
I'll tell you what we can do.
You two hash it out,
and whoever can convince us
that they didn't do it can walk.
How about that?
I want my attorney.
Yeah, same here.
How about you write some numbers down,
and we'll give them a call?
Yeah. I mean, it's probably gonna take a while,
but we'll wait.
And in the meantime, I sit in here with him?
He killed my dad!
He was my dad, too.
At least get one thing right for once in your life.
He was our father.
Oh, what are you gonna do, cry now?
You know, you've spent your whole life
acting like me and my mom didn't exist.
Oh, I knew damn well you existed.
How could I not?
Everything was "Poor Gerald this,
poor Gerald that." It's like I've had
a sickly five-year-old brother I never wanted.
What kind of a dick deletes a guy's number
from his own father's phone?
They sound a lot like my kids.
What are you talking about? I never deleted your number.
How come he never answered my texts?
He texted with you constantly.
Every time I was with him last year,
it was, "Bing, bing, bing."
No, no, that's what happened when you knew he was with me.
Hey, wait-wait a minute. Time-out.
Did either of you actually see the texts
or who he was texting with?
No.
No, but who else would Dad have been texting with?
I mean, guys his age only text with his kids.
Otherwise they talk on the phone.
That's actually a good question.
I have his phone sitting in an evidence bag.
I was about to take it down to CCS
and have them go through it.
Yeah, why don't we save them the trouble?
I just don't think this is a good idea.
I just want to talk to him.
The guy lost his daughter.
Hasn't he suffered enough?
By disrespecting his daughter's death?
Disrespecting what I had to do?
Rachel, I know it's crazy,
e-especially him saying that we were complicit
in some big lie, but he doesn't actually believe it.
Says who?
I talked to the cops who did the next of kin notification
and they said that Mr. Bowles totally melted down.
He screamed that Alyssa couldn't be dead,
that she'd been in Montauk the weekend before
and that she just hadn't come home yet.
Okay.
And then I went online and I saw those conspiracy trolls
bragging about how they'd found his number.
They started bombarding him with all that psyop crap.
They-they went after the victim's dad?
It's what they do.
They find someone vulnerable and they pounce.
And he believed it because...
Facing the truth about his daughter's death
would completely destroy him.
What do we do now?
Ms. Wilson.
Yes?
Hi, I've never had your class, but my name is Sean...
Sean Reagan. I know who you are.
I know you're not exactly the biggest fan of my family.
Is there a question here, Sean?
Someone wrote "ACAB" all over my locker.
- So I heard. - How?
It's a high school.
Where the main office
has everyone's locker combinations on file.
And I imagine that the teachers would have access.
Excuse me?
You know what ACAB means, right?
All cops are bastards.
Which you agree with, right?
You're putting words in my mouth.
They're your words. It's what you teach.
Used to teach.
Last summer,
looting broke out in my neighborhood.
First I thought, "Yes, oh, the revolution is finally here."
And then they...
They weren't protesters.
I know what a protest looks like.
They started torching the cars on my block.
And I watched the cops put their lives on the line
to stop the violence.
I-I'm not saying they're all angels...
But they're not all the devil either.
Not that night, not on my block.
Sean,
it wasn't me who wrote that.
But someone did.
And somehow they got my locker combination.
Any friends hang out while you open your locker?
Why do you ask that?
In case you haven't noticed, Sean,
the world's turned upside down.
Hello, ladies.
Hey, Sean.
Where is she? There she is.
I hope you found out who killed Mr. Bradley.
We did, it just took a while. Hands behind your back.
- What? - We're making a withdrawal.
And you're it.
What are you talking about?
Gaslighting an old man that his kids were out
to drain his accounts so he better start
hoarding large chunks of cash at home?
Then he takes a hundred grand out of the bank,
you follow him home and pay him a surprise visit.
No, I-I didn't do that.
- No, they're lying. - Nobody's lying
except you, okay?
We saw the app you had him download,
we read all the text messages between you guys.
What do you say, partner?
Jury takes about an hour to convict?
I give 'em 30 minutes. Let's go.
You know, I was the only good person in his life.
He would have wanted me to have that money!
You're probably right.
I don't deserve this!
And he didn't deserve a knife in the back.
Hey, were you in Montauk? Did you see this girl there?
Hey, excuse me, excuse me.
My daughter was supposed to come home last week,
but she must've missed her bus. Have you seen her?
- No. Sorry, sir. - H-Have you seen this girl before?
- No, sorry. - She was in Montauk last week.
He's been showing up every day.
I told him to leave, but he keeps coming back.
He's in a bad place.
But you'll arrest him, right?
- Sir? - I mean, he's harassing people.
Don't worry, we'll take care of it.
She's my daughter. She was supposed to be home last week.
- No? - No.
Thank you.
Excuse me, have...? Oh.
It's you two.
Mr. Bowles, we're here to help you.
How?
By disappearing me because I'm on to you?
They're imposters. If anything happens to me, they did it.
Look, Alyssa is not coming off of one of these buses.
Yes, she is.
No, she isn't. She got back last week,
just like she planned, and then she went to her job
the very next day.
Why do you keep lying?
We were there. We tried to help her.
My daughter just isn't back from her weekend trip.
When she gets back, I'm gonna find her.
We've had some problems lately.
Stupid disagreements that...
You-you can't let those be your last words.
That's why I have to find her.
And we know where she is.
Yeah, come on.
We'll take you there.
So the lady at the bank killed him?
Yes. She confessed to it.
After throwing a tantrum, of course.
- I can't believe it. - Yeah, 'cause you were
too busy blaming me.
Same thing you were doing to me.
Listen, you-you stuck-up son of a bitch.
All right. Can you two just stop, please?
All right?
He didn't do it and he didn't do it.
End of discussion.
Seriously, look, I didn't know your old man.
Okay? But I know fathers, I know sons, I know families.
Now, if you're gonna take any positive out of this,
take away the fact that you're family.
Okay, you're all you got now, for better or worse,
so figure it out.
- Buy you a drink? - Really? Alcohol?
Forget it.
Just say yes.
Come on, your problems are bigger than his drinking problem.
No offense.
How about O'Keefe's?
It's the first place Dad ever bought me one.
Yeah. Me, too. Booth in the back.
Yeah.
There you go. All right, knock yourselves out.
But not with your fists.
Why didn't you wait for me to walk home?
And the way you blew by me in the hall.
You got something against my friends?
Yeah, the one with "ACAB" written on her notebook.
Corrine?
Why'd you give her my locker combo?
I didn't.
Principal will figure it out.
You're going to the principal?
You tell me.
Those girls... Cindy and Amanda and Corrine.
We all started hanging online
and became friends.
But when they found out I also hang with you, they went off.
How the police are pigs.
You just threw them a bone.
I haven't made a lot of girlfriends
since I moved here.
I just, I didn't want to lose them.
It sounds so stupid saying it. Sean...
You're never gonna forgive me, are you?
Piece of advice I heard constantly
growing up in a family of cops?
What?
Everybody makes mistakes.
See you later.
For now.
Take a seat.
Worked things out with my dad.
Thanks for what you said. It helped me.
That's great to hear, boss.
You don't want to let those things drag out.
Yeah, well, the long and short of it:
He's not the kind of man who could store his regrets in a box.
He actively worries how his actions
affect the other person.
And it got me wondering.
Regrets.
I've had a few.
But then again, too few to mention?
Sid...
You miss being in the rank and file.
No, boss.
That wasn't a question.
Every sad sack and sideways cop
whose problem lands on this office,
your first instinct is to erect a statue for the guy.
You love 'em all, and the more warts the better.
Well...
Abigail, you are a talented detective
and those talents are seldom used up here.
It's kind of like you're an ace pilot
and you're stuck working in the air traffic control tower.
And you, my friend,
you'd make a lot more money and get a lot less grief
in the private sector.
You know it and I know it.
So...
if any of you would like a glowing recommendation
for a new job...
...I will recommend you gladly,
heartily,
with no questions asked
and with nothing but gratitude...
for all that you have given me.
Thank you, sir.
But I'm staying.
I'm good right where I am.
Me, too.
But with a raise.
Give him an inch...
If I thought I was holding any of you back,
I would always regret that.
And I would never be able to put that regret in a box.
Oh...
Sweetheart.
I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you.
But come on.
It's time to go home.
-credits-