- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --
_
Does, uh, Joseph Congemi live here?
He's got nothing to say to you.
_
You got nowhere to run, Anton!
Fuck.
- Fuck happened? - He fucking wheeled on me, Chris.
He wheeled on me.
_
You need me to be your token Black boy.
I want you to do your fucking job.
I'm asking to be polite.
_
Fuck you.
You can have it.
You have to remember, Boston is a mistake.
The Mayflower was never supposed to land
on Plymouth fucking Rock.
They were heading to Virginia and got lost.
Boston only exists
because of someone's shitty sense of direction.
Ah.
The prodigal pain in the ass returns to the scene of his many crimes.
And the prodigal drunk remains steadfast in his self-loathing.
What are you drinking?
- You buying? - I'm pouring.
Hennessy, right?
Wait, wait.
You work here?
Oh, my, how far the mighty have fallen.
Nah. Given the shit I went through
with that bitch Shimizu this past year,
- tending bar is a promotion. - Hmm.
And fuck you.
So, the roar became a whisper.
Again, fuck you. That's five bucks.
You know, we're looking for some investigators
down at the D.A.'s office. You want me to say something?
You serious?
Fuck no.
Good.
'Cause guys that work for you don't live that long.
You better go clean that up.
Not again, Jimmy.
Dispatch, we're arriving on the scene right now.
We're approaching the residence.
Stand by. We're making contact.
Police. This is the police.
Residents or occupants, come to the door and open it now.
All right, cover, cover.
- We got one occupant, female. - What the fuck is going on?
- Show me your hands now. - Do you know what time it is?
I'm Karen Shimizu, the U.S. attorney.
- What is this about? - Step outside, ma'am.
We're responding to a call about shots fired
at this address.
- What? Gunshots? - Yes, ma'am.
Who called?
- A neighbor. - Well, that's bullshit.
I've been home alone all night...
... not shooting a gun, all right?
We got to sweep this house.
Stay with her.
Stand aside, please.
We are entering the residence.
Copy, dispatch. Stand by.
Room is clear.
- All clear in here. - Dispatch, Ladder 44.
We've arrived at the scene.
- Jesus fucking Christ. - Police are here, too.
Fuck you, Shimizu.
Dispatch, there's no sign of fire here.
We're gonna go in and make sure.
Good night, Dominique.
How was that?
- Nice. - Hmm.
Good night, Letitia.
Good night, Sinclair.
You look like a bird, but you talk like a man.
I've known all along you were a bully,
not a bird.
Maybe, but I don't fool around.
You ever heard of using a coaster?
Fucking Clutch Cargo.
I forgot how much I love this fucking show.
In this one, Clutch and Snowshoe Slednick
capture the Arctic Bird Giant,
but it's not actually a bird giant.
It's just some fucking asshole dressed like a bird
on fucking stilts.
- It's genius. I got to try that. - Goddamn it,
is this honestly my life?
What did I do now?
Jack shit is what you do.
You work at that bar from 6 to 2 in the morning.
I mean, you come home reeking of booze, smoke and vomit.
You sleep till noon, then you lie around here
drinking and farting until you just shower and you leave again.
"For many are called but few are chosen."
Matthew 22:14.
Something's got to change.
Okay? There's-there's not enough money coming in.
Minimum wage and 200 bucks a week in tips
isn't gonna cover Benny's $20,000 dollar room,
board and tuition at NYU.
I'm scared.
"Fear kills more people than death."
You know who said that? General George S. Patton.
When Ike almost fired George for slapping
that-that soldier in Italy, did he panic? No.
Did he wuss out and run to mama? No.
He stood his fucking ground and marched into Berlin.
You didn't victoriously march into Berlin.
Yeah, you were fired from the FBI!
No. No, no, no. I quit.
And-and-and you're forgetting the escape money in the basement.
Yeah, which you've been dipping into for months now.
- How much of that is left? - Plenty. Tons. We're flush.
Don't worry about it.
We both know about growing up with shitty fathers
- who couldn't provide. - Oh.
Why you got to bring your loser father into this?
The day that we got married,
you promised that you would always take good care of our family.
Well, now you're breaking that promise.
So here are your choices:
you get a better job,
or we sell the house,
or I go back to work.
Pick one.
'Cause I'm not waiting around for us to go broke.
Bozo, my friend, we're in trouble.
Your thoughts?
Yeah. You're right.
Maybe I should make some calls.
Good talk.
Decourcy, come on in.
I want your opinion.
Which photo makes me look less like a cunt
and more avuncular and trustworthy?
Ooh. Uh, you want the truth?
- Yeah. - I don't give a shit.
Now, why'd you really call me in?
Ah. Have a seat.
I'm running for attorney general
of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
God, saying the whole thing sounds so good.
And why do I care?
I know you'll miss me, but if I win,
I will leave this office with eight months left in my term.
And the governor says I can appoint my successor.
Which means, if I chose you and you kick ass,
you could position yourself to run for a full term in '94.
What's the catch?
You're not my only potential choice.
Of course not.
You expect me to kiss your ass
and be you errand boy to prove myself.
You, sir, are fucking unbelievable.
But I'm still your fucking boss, and what I say goes.
Read into this what you want.
I'm trying to help your career.
- You mean your career. - Fuck's wrong with that?
As the Sicilians say, one hand washes the other,
both hands wash the dick.
So, what I need is excellence and convictions
to sell to the voting public.
- Out of both of you. - Who's the other guy?
The other guy is a woman.
And she's on her way here now.
Mr. Ward, Blair Chavez.
Meeting you is an honor,
and working with you will be a privilege.
It's nice to meet you, as well. Given the circumstances.
Yes, the circumstances are a little off-putting.
Mm.
I don't even know why I'm under consideration for your job.
You made headlines in Chicago,
putting that state senator away for misuse of campaign funds.
You built a big, splashy, successful case,
and that is what I expect from the two of you.
He thinks his transparency is comforting.
All I know is I will need to lean on you
to learn how Suffolk County works.
Happy to help.
Welcome to Boston.
Let the games begin.
Aw, that's nice.
Yeah, my dad used to take me here, too, when I was little.
Mr. Suferin, your former partner, Officer Wallace,
will testify that you disobeyed Sergeant Caysen's orders
by going into the house where Anton Campbell was cornered.
- Wallace was right behind me when I... - I'm not finished.
He will also testify that Campbell was not turning around.
Instead, you executed him while others were negotiating with him.
That Black bastard was firing.
- Every cop out front... - Forensics do not lie.
He was shot in the side of the head.
He wasn't facing you.
And that's why you're being charged
under Title 18 U.S.C. Section 242
of the Federal Criminal Code.
- A possible life sentence. - Miss Shimizu,
I assume you're here to save the government time and money.
What's your offer?
PTC, and we recommend 15 years, not life.
- Fuck that! - He was performing his duty.
His actions were justified.
No jury would ever convict a cop of that.
His own partner
called Mr. Campbell's death an assassination.
Officer Suferin's jacket has over a dozen complaints of racial animus
for which he was disciplined.
- I'm not a racist. - Life or 15, Mr. Suferin.
Take the offer.
If it's a boy, I'm thinking Russ Wallace Jr.
But is that okay? I mean, I don't know.
Russ, the baby's not here yet.
You're getting all tangled up for no reason.
We're a couple weeks away.
I'm just not sure that I'm ready.
I mean... holy shit, a fucking baby.
Every dad-to-be feels the same.
Then the day comes, you're holding your baby boy
or girl in your arms, and in that precious moment,
you realize in 16 years
that kid's gonna be saying, "Fuck you, Dad."
Thanks for the sage advice, Sarge.
Go.
Ronnie Weskum!
This is the Boston Police.
We have you surrounded.
Step out of the vehicle with your hands up
and walk backwards to my voice.
Ronnie! Step out of the vehicle!
Show me both your hands, then walk backwards to my voice.
Don't fuck around, Ronnie. Show me both your hands.
Gun! Gun!
- Suspect down. - Down! Suspect down!
- He's down! - Suspect down.
- All right, easy, easy. Move in. - Moving in.
Officer down. Officer down.
Russ. Russ.
Stay here, man. Stay here.
Fuck.
Dad. Coaster.
Jesus Christ, you're more like your mother every day.
You're hovering.
Yeah, I got to talk to you about something.
How much you need?
I mean, that's a pretty shitty conversation starter.
Come on, what makes you think I'm always gonna ask you for money?
- Get that, will you? - Uh-huh.
Hi there. I'm Sinclair Dryden.
- Can I help you? - Is your father home?
Let me check.
- Dad? - Yeah, yeah.
Send him right in, Benny.
Thank you.
Jackie.
- It's good to see you. - Sinclair.
Still tan as a porn star.
- Let's sit in here. - Yeah.
Uh, I don't know if you got my message.
I-I called you. I-I didn't hear back.
Yeah, I've done too many wiretaps
to trust using a phone, huh?
Oh, boy.
Oh. Bad back, huh?
Yeah, playing football at a family gathering.
Ever since, any change of the weather makes my back ache.
Well, it wasn't aching... what was it, five years ago?
When you punched that U.S. attorney.
He deserved more of a beating. His secretary started screaming.
You were the best SAC the Boston Bureau ever had.
It's a shame that that pansy's broken jaw cost you your job.
I fell on my own sword, like a man should.
You've done the same, or so I hear. You landed on your feet.
Well, like I said in my message, you know,
I'm-I'm doing some consulting.
You know, a little of this, little of that.
Back when I was running the Boston Bureau,
I let you pick your own music, dance your own dance.
No questions asked. I could depend on you.
You still can.
That's why I want to hire you.
Look, I think this could be a perfect situation for both of us.
I made a lot of enemies in the course of my career.
And lately, uh, things have started to happen.
Tires slashed, my wife gets harassed.
A couple of nights ago, a car follows my daughter Victoria
onto our driveway, parks right behind her
and stays there a while.
Scared her to death.
You have surveillance cameras?
Yes, but there's a gap in the tape at the time of the incident.
Look, Jackie, I know you've been slinging hooch
at the 21st Amendment.
But that's a waste of Jackie Rohr.
You need a job, and I need somebody who knows his shit.
As your head of security?
Oh, I'm not worried about myself.
But I am afraid for Letitia and my daughter when I'm not around.
2,000 bucks a week, cash.
That's almost $50,000 dollars more than you were making
working for Uncle, and no, you do not have time
to talk to your wife.
Yeah, all right.
I'll see you at my house at 10 a.m. tomorrow morning.
Oh.
Mount Vernon Street, huh? Beacon Hill.
Must be nice to always get what you came for.
An advance.
I'll show myself out.
Bendrops.
How much you need?
Dr. Stewart, please dial 2126.
Russ just died.
- Carol, I'm so sorry. - No.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
It was Blair Chavez,
some hotshot A.D.A. out of Chicago.
Guy Dan hired her to...
To fuck with my head.
Well, then, that's simple.
Don't let her fuck with your head.
Look...
I want to be Suffolk County D.A.
Then I'd get the chance to actually make the changes
that need to be made.
Hello?
- Decourcy, hey. - Hey, Louie. What's up, man?
So, listen, uh, I was out on patrol when I got a call.
Pop collapsed in front of the house.
Wait, what? Is he okay?
He seems to be.
The-the paramedics can't figure out what's wrong with him.
Well, what did the doctors say?
That stubborn old fool won't go see a doctor.
He says he's fine. He's upstairs sleeping.
I'll be in Brooklyn as soon as I can.
All right, I'll see you.
I haven't heard you whistle in months.
"Man starts over again every day,
in spite of all he knows, against all he knows."
You sure you want to work in Beacon Hill?
Yesterday you said I was a lazy shit-bum.
You compared me to your degenerate father
and you beat my balls like scrambled eggs.
So, yeah, two grand a week cash
to make sure that Dryden's doors are locked?
That's the right decision.
I know you, Jackie.
Nah, there's more to this than just the money.
You like feeling like a cop again.
Wrong.
I don't miss that life a single fucking bit.
Good for you.
You got your first lie of the day out of the way.
_
Hernando's been hit.
He's got a fucking rod through his fucking head.
Get help. Call an ambulance.
This is site 22. We've had an accident.
We need an ambulance.
How you doing?
Fuck.
Officer Suferin refused my offer.
Never should have put one on the table.
That bastard deserves life in prison,
no chance at parole.
Sorry keeping you guys waiting.
You should've called.
Yeah, I should've. I should've done a lot of fucking things.
Look, I have tons of things to do
before I head to Brooklyn tomorrow.
Chris, did Officer Wallace ever contradict his statement
about Suferin murdering Anton Campbell?
Uh, no. He, uh...
At first, he was hesitant to say anything,
but he came around.
Russ knew he had to do what was right.
And now he's dead.
Apparently, shot by another cop.
Ballistics report came in this morning.
Did you read it?
Looks like one of your guys killed Wallace.
It's not a house fire.
We still have his sworn statement.
No, but a living witness is better than a piece of paper.
- What's this? - Either a blessing or a curse.
You heard about that accident
that happened at the Big Dig site near South Street?
Oh, the crane gave way or something?
What happened was a little more graphic.
Meet Hernando Mendoza.
Ooh.
- Sweet Jesus. - That's probably who saved him.
- Mendoza survived this? - Mm-hmm.
He's in the hospital.
Doctors aren't sure how much he'll recover, if at all.
The family wants to sue,
but no law firm in the city will represent him because...
Because this is Tip O'Neill's love child.
Anyone who fucks with the Big Dig
- is gonna get crushed. - You up for taking on Goliath?
I'll get my slingshot.
How are you?
Jackie Rohr for Sinclair Dryden?
- Thanks. - Mrs. Dryden will be right with you.
- Okay. Uh, what, in here? - Yes, please.
Little much, right?
Kind of wins the "look at us, aren't we fucking royalty" award.
Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dryden.
Uh, Jackie Rohr.
- Doesn't do you justice. - I know.
I've put on a little weight.
Oh, no, no, no, that's not what I meant. I was...
Jackie, let's be on a first-name basis.
- I'm Letitia. - Okay.
Come on. I'll, uh, show you the house.
Huh. House?
Where I come from, you could fit a house in this room.
Oh, you play pool?
Yes, but not like you think.
You know, I've seen you on the news.
You arrested those armored car thieves in Charlestown,
shut down that drug ring in Roxbury.
Are you some kind of superhero?
You got a cape under that jacket?
Good morning, Mrs. Dryden.
Dominique, hi. Um, this is Mr. Rohr.
Mr. Rohr, Dominique is a classmate of Sinclair's daughter.
Nice to meet you.
Mrs. Dryden, I, um...
Was I here on Sunday night?
You had dinner with us, yes.
I-I remember dinner. Did I, uh, did I sleep here?
Dominique, where did you wake up in the morning?
A-At my apartment,
but there are, um, gaps that I-I can't recall.
Well, you had a lot of wine
and you dozed on the couch.
We had our driver take you home.
Dom, I told you that we were gonna study upstairs.
Jackie, meet my stepdaughter Victoria.
Hey. Jackie Rohr.
Mr. Rohr is looking out for the family's security now.
Oh, don't tell me Father finally fired
poor old drooling Freddie.
Uh, Victoria, your-your dad said
that you were followed into the driveway the other night.
- I want to ask you a couple questions. - Later. I'm busy.
- Come on, Dom. - Uh, nice to meet you.
He's on the payroll. You don't have to be polite.
Ah, listen, you know, my daughter Benedetta,
- she can be... - No, save your breath.
Victoria is a class-A bitch.
If I can't remember two nights ago,
how will I remember how long U Thant led the United Nations?
Don't worry. I will make you some flash cards.
Look, we have to get you into the Kennedy School of Government.
You need to rule the world.
You've been studying like crazy for weeks.
You're gonna crush the exam. Or I will kick your ass.
Hey.
Sorry I got so drunk the other night.
- I didn't mean to embarrass you. - I told you,
you should've let me and Moustafa drive you home
instead of staying for one of Dad's nightcaps.
Lesson learned.
Uh, so, Sinclair mentioned something about you being harassed.
As usual, my husband's being overly dramatic.
I had an argument with my tennis partner.
He swung his racket at me. It's really nothing to sweat about.
This is your office.
Wow.
So who was your last security guy?
James Bond?
Jackie, do you like this perfume?
Well, if that was a drug, it would be illegal.
I can already see how clever you are.
I'll let you settle in.
Uh, she'll need fall and winter stuff for New York.
When you drop her at NYU,
the two of you should go shopping.
Oh, right, Sue. You know Jackie would have a fit.
That's funny. Last year, I'm giving you all this shit
about not staying married to Jackie and...
- And now you're the divorced one. - The irony is intoxicating.
Do you know the Drydens?
You and Cabot ever hang out with them?
We waved to each other at fundraisers and the opera.
Back in the bad old days, Sinclair Dryden's family
owned all the land from the Common to Back Bay.
The one to watch out for is Letitia.
She just ended an affair with her tennis pro.
They're still cleaning his blood off the asphalt.
- The daughter is... - Hi, Sue.
- Hi, Benny. - Ma, what are you doing?
- I'm helping out. - I'm going to college,
not summer camp.
- I'll get this done my way. - Okay, okay.
- You want a soda? - Yeah.
Benny's in such a great place.
Oh, yeah, I'm so proud of her.
I mean, she's been a champion with the recovery.
She really committed to her sobriety.
My Clara, too.
She got her two-year chip last weekend.
Aw.
Cheers.
Can I share something?
Yeah, of course.
Clara recently told me she's gay.
Geez. What?
Yeah.
Telling me was hard for her. She was afraid how I'd react.
Well, God, who can blame her? I mean, look at the world.
Uh, look at this neighborhood.
When you and I were growing up,
I mean, life sucked for anyone who wasn't perfect-looking,
let alone gay.
Yeah, I...
I love Clara for having the courage
to just come out and say who she is out loud.
You know? Good for her.
Oh, I got to go.
Well...
I'm volunteering at the Nichols Center to support Clara.
They work with AIDS patients, advocacy,
- women's reproductive rights. - Hmm.
Only problem is they're shorthanded.
Hey, now that your nest is empty,
maybe you'd want to help.
Oh, God. Jackie would hate that.
Yeah, but I'd love to. Yes.
Thanks, Sue.
What are you hiding, the phone numbers
of your old Brooklyn girlfriends?
We talked about this.
I need this to keep us safe.
All right? I-I'm not gonna be caught off guard again.
No, I understand.
Just seeing the gun scared me a little.
I know you feel we need one in the house.
I just wish I felt the same.
Did you connect with your dad?
No.
Every time I call, he's sleeping.
I should go with you, baby.
Hey, let's be honest.
I know you don't like my father.
That's a polite way of saying he doesn't like me.
I know you were pissed he didn't come check on you
at the hospital after the shooting.
Bothered me more that he didn't call after the miscarriage.
Well, I hope this is nothing serious
and that he gets better fast and you come home soon.
And you don't need that many pair of socks.
If you overpack, I'll fear you're not coming back.
Hey, you are the only place I call home.
Mm, I guess I'll call Callie
and spend the night.
We haven't had girl time in a while.
Hmm?
I love you, too.
How was your day?
I had a fun-filled luncheon for Bangladeshi refugees.
Ooh.
- I went shopping. - Ah.
Jackie Rohr.
Is he trustworthy?
Yes, completely. Why?
We may have a problem with Dominique.
How so?
She's trying to put the pieces of the other night together.
No worries. I'll talk to her.
Where is everyone?
Serving warrants in Southie.
Sosnoff Gang.
I built that case.
We all did.
Yeah, right.
Hey, hey, that's mine.
What?
That's my stapler.
Wallace needed to staple something the other day,
so he borrowed mine.
Give it here.
Odd, you're more concerned about a stapler than Wallace.
Nah. God rest him.
You see the ballistics report on the round that killed him?
Not yet.
Bullet came from your gun.
The fuck you saying, Caysen?
I'm saying you blew Wallace's head off.
That's why you're on a desk for the foreseeable fucking future.
This is bullshit.
Round probably ricocheted off one of them rusted anchors.
There was nothing between you and Wallace.
I walked the scene with Internal Affairs.
- You that bad a fucking shot? - Oh, fuck you, Chris.
No, fuck you, Rick!
Fuck you!
Here, take your fucking stapler.
Who's this handsome guy?
Moustafa Mody. Pleasure.
- Victoria, good time? - Nope.
Uh, look, your father is paying me to keep you all safe, so...
Rah, rah. Believe this: I'm safe.
My dad is the one who needs help.
I just want to ask you about the night you were followed.
It'll only take a minute.
- What happened, Vick? - Nothing.
Moustafa, could you wait in the other room?
- No fucking way. - Okay, suit yourself.
So, Thursday night, you're driving home.
Were you aware that you were being followed?
No.
What time did you pull into the driveway, roughly?
10:30.
Uh-huh.
Well, did you get a good look at the car?
Can you tell me the make?
The car was a car.
Could you see inside?
- Like, who was in there, or... ? - It was dark, Einstein.
Ah.
So, the car pulls in behind you in the driveway
and it just sits there.
I-I don't know. It was dark and I was fucking scared, all right?
Yeah, well, that-that sounds scary.
It's-it's interesting that, the exact time you were being followed,
the security cameras conked out.
I don't know anything about security cameras.
And what time did you pull into the driveway?
10:30, and nice try.
- My dad uses that trick. - What trick?
Asking me the same question twice
to see if the answer changes to prove I'm lying.
Were you at a bar or a restaurant that night?
Seriously?
... buried alive in an underground bunker
near the Hudson River by NYPD detectives.
A longtime employee of the formal-wear manufacturer
has been arrested in connection to the kidnapping.
Upon being found, the 68-year-old millionaire...
... increasingly likely to pass
with vehement support from borough residents
who feel neglected by city government.
It's right here, on the right.
Thank you.
- Hey, Pop. - Hey, son.
- Hey. - What are you doing here?
- What's with the boxes? - Just...
- removing some clutter. - Yeah?
You know Louie called me, right?
Said you dropped out front like Sonny Liston back in '65.
- I was at that fight. - Oh, I know.
I remember Moms was upset 'cause you spent the milk money
- on a train ticket to Maine. - She was right.
Wasted a lot of hard-earned cash going to see a fixed fight.
Ali hit him with a right in the first round.
Fight as fixed as the Last Supper.
What you mean?
Judas never had a chance.
Why'd you collapse?
Oh...
- No big deal. - Mm.
Got light-headed, you know?
Thank God the ground broke my fall.
Oh, the ground, right?
Ah. Pop, I know you.
Come on, man.
There's more going on here than a little light-headedness.
I suss out the truth for a living.
This, this here, it's not gonna float.
I have cancer.
Uh...
The pancreas.
But I'm A-okay.
What? You...
But th... pancreatic cancer
is, like, the most aggressive cancer there is.
How-how long have you known?
A couple of months.
Pop, two months with pancreatic cancer is like an eternity.
What-what, what do they got you on?
Is it chemo, radiation? What are we doing...
Nothing. I didn't want any of that.
I don't understand.
It's simple. I'm not doing therapies.
What... So, if-if you hadn't fallen the other day,
- then what... - I didn't ask you to come.
Pop, I'm back.
Oh, shit, man, I thought I'd beat you home.
- Come here. - What's up, man?
I got us lunch.
Did I invite you boys to stay for lunch?
Did you know about Pop's cancer?
He told me this morning.
Enough of this self-righteous indignation.
I'm gonna dance.
? Ding dong daddy from Dumas ?
? You ought to see me do my stuff ?
? Ding dong dong dong ding dong ?
? Daddy from Dumas, mm ?
Excuse me.
My name is Siobhan Quays, from the ACLU.
I-I'm Lourdes Mendoza, Hernando's sister.
This is Pepe, his son.
Nice to meet you, Pepe.
Have you spoken to the doctors today?
They say, uh, he-he might not walk again.
He could lose his eyesight.
He will probably have to live out his life in a home.
Has anyone from the construction company
or the city come to speak with you
about insurance or covering medical costs?
The first night in the ER, yes.
They explained that he gets workers' compensation.
How is that enough?
I can't support Pepe
on a paycheck that barely supports me.
I don't want you to worry.
I'm going to fight for your family.
What are we gonna do about Pop?
We're gonna respect his wishes.
Make him comfortable.
- And let him die on his own terms. - I disagree.
It doesn't matter. The decision is not up to you.
You know, when Mom was diagnosed with cancer,
he was relentless, fighting to keep her alive.
We... I say we get him a doctor.
I have been on point taking care of him all this time.
Where have you been?
- That's not fair, Louie. - Yeah, no shit.
You can't just drop in and take charge.
He is who he is.
You know that. Why are you forcing this?
'Cause I don't believe he's got no more fight left in him.
And I'd miss him.
Nice shot.
Hey. You want a drink?
It's got to be five o'clock somewhere.
So, I went through the files of the six guys
that might have a vendetta against you.
- Yeah? - Two are dead, two are in prison,
one is born-again and living in Venezuela.
And number six?
Well, him I took an interest in.
Lyle Pike. I-I couldn't find him, so I did some digging,
and it turns out that he changed his identity.
His name, his date of birth, his social,
the whole fucking nine... even dyed his hair.
He's living in Worcester
hiding out from some loan sharks who want him dead.
So I knocked on his door and I told him that...
if he ever came within a mile of this zip code,
I would put his new name and address
on the front page of The Globe.
Lyle Pike was always a chickenshit.
I also spoke to Victoria about the night that she was followed.
Yeah, she told me. She wasn't happy.
Yeah, Sinclair, I hate to tell you this,
but your daughter is lying.
The mystery car, it never existed.
Are you certain of that?
Dead. She made the whole thing up.
Shit.
Look, I thought I was past all this.
Victoria's been difficult ever since she was a child.
Uh, mood swings, anger, anxiety.
We had her seen by the best.
One doctor thought, well, maybe she's bipolar
or slightly autistic or something, I don't know.
She's been on meds.
Ritalin, clozapine.
It all seemed to work for a while while she was growing up,
but lately, her behavior is just-just... it's worse.
Uh, yeah, I keep thinking, maybe...
maybe-maybe I had a hand in all this, huh?
You know, too much nose to the grindstone.
You know what I mean.
Living next door to me when I was six or so
was a kid named Dick Hoare.
I swear to God. Hoare.
Hoare. H-O-A-R-E.
Why his parents would name him Dick, yeah, I'll never understand.
But he was a good guy, despite being latch-key.
I mean, he was without any kind of parental supervision.
Totally on his own.
Yeah, and he turned out okay, right?
No, actually, he fell out of a window drunk.
Your point is?
You can tough-love a kid and you can no-love a kid.
It doesn't matter.
They're gonna be who they're gonna be.
I'll keep an eye on Victoria.
I will catch her if she falls.
Thank you.
Jenny, I'm so glad you're here.
Oh, I love this place.
In every corner, another adventure.
- Hey, is that Father Doyle? - Yeah.
He volunteers here.
I was thinking maybe you could start by helping me organize
today's lunch delivery.
We send meals to an AIDS hospice over on Fremont Street.
Well, I'm ready to roll up my sleeves.
Good. Follow me.
Hey, Sue, could you just, could you give me a sec?
Yeah, meet me over by the pantry.
Okay.
Mrs. Rohr.
Yeah, get formal on me, I'll belt you.
How are you, Jenny?
- I'm good. Yeah. - Yeah?
Also, uh, you know, a little surprised.
I thought the Catholic Church was kind of anti-homosexual,
let alone women's reproductive rights.
Well, that's the Church. That's not me.
I see you're out of uniform.
Uh, I'm on sabbatical.
Oh.
Time to take a hard look in the mirror
and just sort out what I'm doing with my life.
Well, facing yourself, that takes a lot of courage.
Something wrong, Jenny? Something on your mind?
Nah, I'm just, I'm making lunches for the hospice.
Excuse me.
I'm looking for a Juan Correa, the site foreman.
He has the day off.
Well, he was here the day Hernando Mendoza was injured, correct?
I don't know. That was my day off.
Hey.
What the Sam Hill kind of poison you giving me?
It's green tea, Pop. A healthy change.
No wonder all those boys up in Boston tossed the tea overboard.
I checked in with Siobhan.
She sends her love.
Decourcy, for a big-time D.A., you don't lie very well.
Hey, don't start. I ain't trying to fight.
Who's fighting? I didn't bring the girl up. You did.
- Decourcy. - Yeah, thanks for coming.
- And who might you be? - This is Dr. Baez.
Uh, Siobhan's friend Dr. Mack recommended him. He's, uh...
What's he want?
Hello, Mr. Ward. I'm a surgical oncologist.
Um, your son asked me to come by for a consultation.
I'm sorry my son dragged you here, Dr. Baez, for no reason.
Mr. Ward, maybe if I could just take a look at you,
I might be able to suggest alternative treatments?
God is the only medicine I need.
Now get out!
Both of you.
See you, Father.
Please, call me Diarmuid.
Or Dermo.
- Dermo? - Yeah.
Jenny, uh, feel free to tell me to mind my own business here,
but you really do seem under a cloud.
Oh, well, maybe I am. Who knows, you know?
I'm still a good listener, even without the collar.
And you know I'm on your side.
Not always.
Yeah, true.
The hurt that I caused you
is all part of this reckoning that I've endured.
A reckoning which may cause me to leave the priesthood permanently.
Sorry, here I am,
blithering on about myself and you're the one that's suffering.
Uh, talk to me.
Yeah, uh... I don't know what's wrong.
I think I just got something in my blind spot.
Is this about your father?
Your-your Aunt Lena is a parishioner and she likes to gossip.
Yeah, well, this might, this might be about him.
Uh, maybe a bit more. I don't know.
You know, I'm...
I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about.
Sorry.
Well, Jenny, I hope you do make peace with your da.
You can't converse with a ghost.
Unless you're Demi Moore.
- Mr. Dryden, hi. - Hi.
- May I come in? - Uh, of course. Please.
Great.
Uh, Letitia said you came by the house
and you were upset about something?
Oh, uh, n-no, I mean...
I wasn't sure what happened after dinner.
- I kind of blacked out. - I'd be happy to explain.
But why don't you let me pour some wine first, huh?
Lafite Rothschild 1963.
Robert Parker rated it 100.
Thank you.
Yes, so...
- that night... - Did we sleep together?
Jesus, no.
I'm sorry. I've been, um...
I woke up the next morning feeling as if, you know, I had, uh...
like I'd been with someone.
A dream, perhaps?
I know the feeling.
When I first met Letitia, I dreamed about being in bed with her
long before we ever were.
The mind is a marvelous,
if somewhat confused piece of machinery,
and fantasy is an aphrodisiac, huh?
The truth is,
you have been attracted to me since the day we met.
My wife noticed first.
You're probably right. I'm sorry.
No need to apologize. Hmm?
Nothing happened.
I'm a happily married man.
Oh, Jesus.
Hello?
I'm sorry, Victoria.
Sorry for what?
I know what happened...
... at your house.
D-Dominique.
Something I couldn't stop.
Dominique, you're not making sense.
Tell me what happened, slowly.
- I'm sorry. - Dominique?
I'm so sorry.
Dominique, talk to me.
He was here.
Well, this beats the fuck out of pissing in a coffee cup
on a cold winter stakeout in the North End.
You fit in well here, Jackie.
Who needs a full pension with perks like these, right?
Yeah, amen.
Well, Letitia, she raves about you.
- Nice lady. - Yeah, she come on to you yet?
What? No, no. What are you talking about?
Ah, come on, you don't have to make excuses.
I know her. You're her type exactly.
- Meaning? - Unavailable.
Ah.
Well, you know, infidelity makes a monster out of the best of us.
Just like your buddy the Minotaur over here.
I was never much for the Greeks,
but that one story, that really struck a nerve.
So, Poseidon is pissed at Minos, the king of Crete,
for not sacrificing a prize bull to him,
so he makes Minos's wife Pasipha�
fall in love with the same prize bull.
And she gets a slave to-to build a cow out of wood
and hollow it out, and she climbs inside
and the bull fucks her and bingo, a monster is born.
Get the fuck out of my way!
Dominique is dead! She's fucking dead.
- Hey, whoa, whoa, hey. - She-she overdosed last night.
You want to give my daughter some space here?
What went on there?
Close the fucking door behind you.
You saw her last night.
What-what, what are you talking about?
You saw her last night!
What are you talking about?
- What did you do to her? - Just go.
Shh, just calm down, calm down.
Do you know why she died, you son of a bitch?
I didn't know she died.
What did you do to her?
I didn't do anything to her, honey.
- Come on, now. - I don't believe you.
I don't believe you. You're lying.
No. Calm down. Just calm down.
Don't tell me to calm down.
I know you. You're lying.
What did you do to her?
- Synced & corrected by MementMori - -- www.addic7ed.com --