Room 1.
Banging into everything! I'm in pain here!
Bang him again.
Let's go.
Far as you go, folks.
Police business.
Ours comes first.
That guy kidnapped a 16-year-old girl.
Don't doubt it, but paramedics radioed
he has severe leg lacerations.
Self-inflicted. He got it trying
to escape over a spiked fence...
Sorry. Even bad guys aren't allowed to bleed out.
I'll let you know when you can question him.
Grab us a coffee?
Yeah, I'll meet you in the waiting room.
Danny Reagan?
Desiree?
Diaz. Yeah, Linda's friend.
Yeah, and she was way more than a friend.
I mean, Linda took me under her wing,
taught me everything I know.
Same.
God, I still miss her so much.
Same again.
But you're okay? And your boys?
Yeah, we're doing good. Thank you.
Hey, Danny, can I talk to you a second?
Yeah. What's up?
Yeah, just... over here? Yeah. Sure.
What's going on?
I need your help.
Okay. With what?
There's something weird going on.
Like, patients are dying.
Well, it's a hospital. No, I mean,
there are people coming in with fairly simple stuff.
Right? Like an asthma attack,
UTI, but after they get admitted,
they end up dead.
Okay, what are you telling me? I'm saying...
Code Blue, ICU 212.
Damn it.
I'm sorry. I-I have to go.
Hey, Anthony. Harry,
gonna need all your tricks.
I scuffed these up big-time.
Craig, how are you today?
Seen better days.
Starting a little early, huh?
Might as well enjoy myself.
We're closing up shop for good.
What? Why?
Stoop out front is why.
Can't get a wheelchair up it.
So? Just go buy some plywood.
Also, the bathroom's too small,
and the back stairs are too steep.
All according to some ambulance chaser
who came, saying he's gonna sue me for $50,000
if I don't renovate immediately.
How's that fair?
I mean, your shop's a neighborhood institution.
You ever hear of the Americans with Disabilities Act?
Of course, but it's not meant to screw over small businesses.
Kind of like Q-tips aren't for your ears.
Guess we won't be sponsoring
the Reade Street Red-Leggers anymore.
Harry, you got to find a lawyer.
Uh, fight this thing.
And run up more bills, along with rent already sky-high
and Craig saying he wants to move on?
It's over, Anthony.
Come and get these before we close up shop
for good on Monday, no charge.
Yeah.
Thanks, huh?
2-9 Precinct. Captain McNichols. How may I help you?
Captain Jamie Reagan. Do you by any chance know what time
I'm scheduled to make my prisoner transport today?
Ah. Mr. Type A forgot something.
Let me guess. You were too busy polishing your boots?
I know. My bad.
Okay, um, FIO transport of Connor Pruitt departing
lockup for the D.A.'s office at 11:00 a.m.
Okay, Reagan, for ten bucks,
I won't tell anybod...
Can't take a joke?
Oh. Sorry I'm late.
Wow.
Line of duty, or plate-glass window?
Neither. Got it boxing.
I think you're supposed to box with your fists, not your face.
Ha! That's a funny one, Abigail.
Those speed bags do pack a punch.
Wow. Good one.
I'm in training for the smoker coming up.
You? Yeah.
Fighting someone else?
Big crowds, bragging rights, all the marbles.
Yeah, and, uh, who's your opponent?
Sergeant out of 2-1, Ray Russo. Loudmouth.
I'm gonna shut that mouth up.
And how old is Russo?
I don't know. 40 maybe.
Come on. Smokers are a department-sanctioned,
time-honored tradition.
Yeah, for young cops to prove their mettle.
What? You don't think I can take this hump?
Uh, that's not the point. The point is,
I'm not sure it's the right look
for a 60-something representative
of this office, win or lose.
Oh. Ageism? That's a thing, you know.
Yeah, but not my thing.
So you're just gonna put your foot down?
I am simply...
expressing my opinion.
Great. Noted.
Moving on.
Servers here at One PP went off-line last night
for a half hour.
IT is looking into the how
and the why.
I don't know about this, Sergeant Reagan.
Yes, you do, Pruitt. Just relax.
And I'll get a reduced sentence and witness protection?
It's not my place to make promises.
The D.A. can relocate you, but only the Feds do protection.
Then there's no way I can do this.
These are bad people.
That's why you have to give up their names.
You do that, and they go to prison forever.
Okay?
King, get us out of here!
Go, go, go, go, go, go, go!
Oh! King?
King, you all right?
Get down. Get down!
Forget him. Let's get out of here!
Pruitt? Pruitt? Yeah.
They're-they're trying to kill me. They're coming for me.
Not anymore.
Hey, King, you okay? Yeah, I'm good.
I'm good.
10-13. Shots fired.
Corner of 46 and Adams. Two males
fled north on Adams in a maroon van.
Central, I'll need a bus to this location forthwith
for an injured officer.
CREDITS
Mom?
Mom!
Kidnapper behind bars, girl's back with her folks.
I call it a win. Big win.
Now we should head over to Saint Vic's. Why?
To check out what that nurse Desiree Diaz was talking about.
That girl you ran into for all of, what, 30 seconds?
She said people were being killed at the hospital.
Sounded credible. We should check it out.
Is she credible?
Don't know.
I mean, she's been to my house a few times
on the holidays with Linda.
They were close.
From what I remember, she makes a great key lime pie.
So, you don't really know her?
No, but I don't think she has any reason to lie.
Reagan, we have
a boatload of cases waiting for us,
and Desiree didn't even give you a name
- of a patient to go on, so... - How about
Hernando or Maddy or Ruth?
I redacted their last names and personal information,
and I made copies
of their chart.
All you have to see is how they supposedly died.
Supposedly.
My partner, Detective Maria Baez,
and next, she's going to say to us
that, technically, we cannot look at those.
Danny, I've been worried sick.
And then you show up at Saint Vic's?
It's no coincidence. Yeah... could've been a coincidence.
Please. Just do this?
But you didn't get those from me.
Didn't get them at all.
Take a look?
Hey, Reagan.
It's good to see you back on your feet so quickly.
Thanks, boss. Even better that King's
gonna make a full recovery.
Yeah, you see what happens when you forget your schedule?
What do you mean?
Earlier, when you called me about the transport.
I, uh, I never called you.
What'd you, you get a concussion or something?
Yeah, y-you called me.
Damn it, I should've seen this coming.
Seen what coming? My prisoner's been
laundering money for a group that uses A.I.
to mimic voices so they can scam people.
They faked your voice with me?
And they ambushed us to get Pruitt.
Oh, God, I, uh...
I almost got you killed.
No, it's not your fault. These guys are damn good.
Problem is, now Pruitt's so clammed up
that he doesn't want to I.D. who these guys are.
How is this guy still in business?
Um, I'd love to answer once I know what we're talking about.
Eh, some asshat attorney named Wesley Timmons is filing suits
against small businesses all around the city
using the Americans with Disabilities Act.
Well, I think we might define "asshat" differently.
No, you don't get it. He's demanding a huge settlement
or he'll drown them in procedural fees.
Well, I think I understand the shape of things just fine.
Okay, so let's drop the hammer.
I can't, if he's applying the law as written.
He's abusing the A.D.A. to fill his own pockets, Erin.
Okay, so how did you come
to understand this in the first place?
Okay, you know the kooky lady at your gym?
The one who knows more about your personal life
than the actual people in your personal life?
Pilates Pam? Yeah.
Well, the guy getting screwed here, Harry,
he's my Pilates Pam.
You know, like someone you don't really know,
but they stand out with a smiling face
in this city full of strangers?
I also got the falafel guy on Church Street.
Odds are Timmons comes after them next.
I feel bad, I do, but we both know that
minor crimes lose out when we've got robberies
and-and murders to take to trial.
So we're supposed to just ignore this jerk?
Odds are we're gonna have to.
Yeah? How?
He's everywhere.
Sergeant Russo's here.
Okay, let's have him.
Commissioner.
Please have a seat.
So, about this fight at the smoker.
He told you?
I'm the police commissioner. I know everything.
Well, if that were true, sir, how'd you ever hire him?
It's okay. You can speak freely.
Look, I know he's one of your people,
okay, but to guys like me, guys in the street,
Sid Gormley is a kiss-up, kick-down kind of cop.
I've never heard that.
It's been that way since me and him
first rode together way back.
Showed up with an attitude, and it's only gotten worse.
Throwing shade, blocking transfers,
keeping me from getting promoted.
So you're going to settle this like men.
Being since the department's never gonna step up,
might as well get my own licks in.
On a guy with two decades on you.
So you're running interference?
I look after everyone's interest.
All due respect, sir,
you know, I hear that a lot.
That this job is all about watching each other's backs.
The only reason I'm still standing
after 20-plus years is 'cause I watch my own.
Mystery deaths?
Yeah. And we figured who better to clear this up with
than the hospital administrator?
It just sounds so dramatic.
It probably was for the patients expecting a hospital stay,
not a trip to the morgue.
And you think this is happening why?
We-we received a tip. Patients?
Family member? Employee?
That's confidential. Good.
So you understand the concept,
which goes double for me, you know, HIPPA and all.
Well, if you won't explain why patients are dying,
maybe you can explain why Saint Victor's performs
the fewest autopsies per patient death in the city.
So now you're questioning the judgment of
my Harvard-educated pathologist?
Only their disinterest in this situation.
Unless, of course, it's you
who ordered them to not perform the autopsies.
Our low rate of autopsies
has nothing to do with disinterest,
and everything to do with the fact that
this hospital is overcrowded
at the same time it's understaffed and underfunded.
Which means I have much more important things
to attend to.
Any more questions can be directed to
our in-house counsel,
whose office is right down there on your right.
Guess that's the end of the road?
No. Let's get a second opinion.
Wesley Timmons.
Hi. Have we met?
No, you'd remember.
I'm Detective Anthony Abetemarco.
How can I help you? Tell me about
Harry & Son's repair shop.
What's to tell?
Mr. Makris would rather close his business
than comply with the law.
I'd say it's you screwing the vulnerable.
By helping disabled people?
By getting rich off the backs of honest business owners.
Your viewpoint, not mine.
Any decent person's viewpoint.
Decency is defined by a jury, where I'm concerned.
It's that easy, huh?
Pawn the morality off on other people
so you keep your pockets full?
You're a son of a bitch, Wesley.
Do I need to remind you of the consequences
for assault in New York State...
Detective?
Have a good night.
Okay, off with the laptop, on with the TV.
The Rangers are tied in the third.
I don't need to be distracted. I'm fine.
Physically, yes.
It's just I'm so far behind the eight ball
with these guys that Pruitt was gonna spill on.
The A.I. scammers?
Yeah. They pose as people's grandkids, they dupe 'em
into getting their bank info,
and then clean out their accounts.
It's the 14th case and counting.
That's horrible.
Any leads from today?
Well, the van was reported stolen,
the guns were defaced and untraceable.
So with Pruitt too scared to testify,
my case is dead in the water.
Hey, hey.
I have full faith in you.
And I used to.
But with A.I., deepfakes, and whatever's coming next,
it's like we're going at these guys
with rocks and spears.
That's weird.
She never calls after hours.
Pick it up on speaker.
Captain, what's up?
Janko, sorry to call so late.
I'm still at the precinct updating personnel forms
and need your mother's maiden name.
No problem. It's Hickey.
Lying to your supervisor.
We both know Lena Janko's maiden name is Hobbs.
Who is this?
And Hobbs is also the answer
to your security question that resets your email password.
Not very smart, Officer.
Hey, I stopped you guys this morning,
and I will find you. You hear me?
Tread lightly.
Both of you.
We know where you live.
Why do I get the feeling I'm not even supposed to be
looking at any of this?
You're not looking at anything.
In fact, we're not even here.
So could you tell us what you don't see?
Pulmonary embolism.
Fatal hypoglycemic seizure.
Idiopathic cerebral embolism.
All very suspicious.
I didn't say that.
You didn't not say it.
This is just the tip of the iceberg.
Unless it's not.
So, what do you say, Doc, yay or nay?
Officially, these are routine deaths
with no overt signs of foul play
or medical malpractice.
Unofficially? Unofficially,
administering an insulin overdose,
or injecting an air bubble to induce an embolism
is the perfect way to mask a murder.
Hmm.
But who would have that skill?
Doctor, nurse, P.A., C.N.A.
So you agree, we have an angel of death
on our hands.
Not without performing autopsies.
And I don't see enough here
to get a warrant for exhumations.
Okay. Thank you. Dead end.
Unless we find another way.
I don't want to go back to the hospital
and risk putting Desiree in danger, it's not worth it.
You know, I could go see Scott.
Who's Scott?
An ophthalmic surgeon at Saint Vic's
that I saw for a consult a few years ago.
He talked me out of getting LASIK,
but into a weekend with him in Montauk.
Mm. Silver-tongued devil.
Who may be able to sweet-talk someone there
into coughing up a staff schedule
showing who was on duty when your deaths occurred.
Well, in that case, we will not
leave this with you.
You're the best.
I am, huh?
Anthony.
Can I at least get to my office
before you jump down my throat?
I told you not to pursue Wesley Timmons.
Aw, geez. What, that mope called you
'cause I said some mean words to him?
Yeah, right after he got out of surgery
because he was beaten within an inch of his life.
What? And now there's an investigator
coming down from the A.G.'s office
to interview you.
Me? What for?
They have you on camera threatening Timmons
a few hours before he was rushed to the ER.
Erin, I didn't touch the guy. You know me.
Anthony, I advise you to have counsel with you.
Except I don't need one, 'cause I didn't do nothin'.
Make this make sense, Pruitt.
I don't have anything else to say.
They got my name, my voice, my phone number,
my wife's phone number.
And none of that's online.
Somehow your guys were able to get all of it.
What don't you understand?
These guys are pros.
All the more reason for you to give up their names.
After yesterday?
My arm's broken in three places.
Then you're gonna be in prison until 2045.
Better that than dead.
And the 20,
50 more innocent families?
They're gonna lose everything. You're okay with that?
Sergeant Reagan, you gave me your word,
and then you screwed up.
That was the end of this. I'm sorry.
Whoever this Scott guy is, Megan's friend, he delivered.
Still, though, how nuts does someone have to be
to kill people laid up in the hospital?
I don't know.
And why target people overweight,
over 60 and diabetic?
Which Saint Vic's is full of.
Throw in hectic wards and a little oversight...
And you got yourself a happy hunting ground. Uh-oh.
Uh-oh what?
See if you have a male nurse listed there:
Arnold Vale.
Oh, Vale, Vale, yeah.
Vale. Worked nights the same ward as our victims.
And arrived three days before our first victim died.
Well, that doesn't do him any favors.
Neither does his work history, which has him bouncing around
from hospitals to nursing homes
in Connecticut and Maryland,
yet has not a single reference listed.
You think he killed as he went?
I don't know, but we better find out
before he moves on again.
I don't know.
Sounds like it might be one hell of a fight.
Well, if it were a couple of rookies
blowing off steam, I'd be all for it.
You do know it's things like this,
are why a lot of guys come on the job
and stay on the job, right?
Things like beating each other up? Yeah.
The tribal customs, the lore.
The pride of being a part of all this.
The ball-busting, the one-upping?
Old men acting like they're young again.
That, too.
So back off.
Pop!
Sid could drop dead.
He will drop dead.
We all will.
You're just being difficult.
Me? Yeah.
Okay, what if there's a snowstorm?
Are you somehow gonna arrange for Sid
not to shovel his own walk and give himself a heart attack?
Remember your Aunt Corrine?
Found a cloud on any sunny day.
Yeah, well, you sound just like her.
Pop, I'm trying to help a friend.
The way you were helping me when you took my car keys away?
That was ten years ago,
and you know it was the right thing to do.
Yeah, well, the world has finally caught up to you.
Meaning?
Meaning everyone's sticking their nose
into everyone's business these days.
Eat this, don't eat that.
Think this, don't think that.
This scotch we're drinking,
is it good?
It's great.
Today's New York Times says
it may lead you to an early grave.
So if I keep my mouth shut...
Then you won't be the guy
no one asked in the first place.
Mm?
This is you in Timmons' face.
And here's you
kicking his ass.
You're joking, right?
I assure you I'm not.
I haven't been that thin since the seventh grade.
So you paid someone to beat him up or you cashed in a favor.
Or maybe I gave him a hot shot
of uranium 235 with a poisoned umbrella.
That supposed to be funny?
Hilarious.
Just like the idea that I went after the guy.
Let's go back to this argument between you and Mr. Timmons...
Let's not, 'cause you're treating me like any other perp.
I don't need to be reminded of your rank
and reputation, Detective.
When you're accusing me of something crazy like this,
context matters.
My context is footage of you
in the man's face on the same night.
Wesley Timmons terrorizes a dozen people,
and you're going after one of your own?
The whole world is in the crapper.
What's next, pizza gets outlawed?
This isn't about the world.
This is about one single brutal assault.
Get this straight.
That's the last time I saw that jerk.
And that's the guy you need to find, and when you do,
I want to shake his hand.
Something to add, Abetemarco?
Not a thing.
So A.I. scans the Internet, uh, like a trillion times over,
and then creates an algorithm
to replicate and synthesize all the information it finds.
How about you explain it in English?
Uh, English, uh...
anything you can do, A.I. can do better.
Can't make dumplings like these though.
That's right. Not yet.
Well, I prefer
to rely on good old regular intelligence.
Increasingly in short supply.
Precisely.
And I would prefer if we change the topic.
To what?
To something I could...
halfway understand.
Why don't you pick one, Gramps?
How about that venerable old
NYPD tradition, the smoker?
Okay.
Francis, you can start.
Why me?
Why not you?
Yeah, why not, Dad?
Yeah, come on, Grandpa. Yeah, yeah.
Okay, okay.
Uh, my rookie year,
Sergeant Gio Danza beat the crap out of me.
But Francis gave as good as he got.
And it ended in a split.
Oh, now you're proud. You yelled at me at the time.
Yeah, well, I had 50 bucks on the other guy.
I seem to remember Danny had a fight
with, uh, Gordy McElroy one time.
Yeah, "fight" is a very generous term.
Uh, I believe you're familiar with the expression,
"you should see the other guy"?
Yeah, unfortunately, I was the other guy.
No way. Yeah.
And he walked around with oversized shades
for about two weeks.
Well, at least I looked cool.
Well, to be fair, McElroy played semipro hockey, so...
That's right. It wasn't even a fair fight.
Yeah.
What about Uncle Joe?
Uh, fought two, won two.
First one was against a mean old lifer
named Joe Reynolds. First round knockout.
And guess who the second one was.
It was me, okay? It was,
it was a charity fight,
and I didn't want to hurt my own brother, so...
Oh, yeah, that was it.
You could've at least landed one punch, though.
I wish I hit him one time now!
Okay?
Well...
I think I should point out that there is
one other undefeated champion
at the table.
Yeah, let me guess, Pops.
No, I never fought one.
Finally a Reagan with sense.
Really, Pop?
I'm a lover, not a fighter.
Stop him before he reminds us
of his nudist beach days.
Wait, so who's the champ among us?
What?
First round knockout 2014.
Wow. Yeah, I had a smooth right hook.
Holy crap. Mm-hmm.
Thank God I didn't fight you, too.
- I'd like to see that. - No, you wouldn't.
How do I not know about this?
Honey, I can't tell you all my secrets.
So here's to the champ.
Iron Jaw Janko.
May we all stay off her bad side.
I told you, it's not me.
This angel of death. Mm-hmm.
Says the guy who flew out the window
the moment my partner knocked on the door.
I didn't know you were cops.
She announced herself loud and clear.
I mean, real cops.
Last month, two guys beat down my door
saying the same thing before they kicked the crap out of me.
And why'd they do that?
I got a gambling problem.
Along with your other problem
of killing innocent patients in the hospital?
I didn't kill anyone.
You know how this is gonna sound to a jury, right?
Male nurse,
unmarried, unpopular with the women,
nothing going on in his life.
It doesn't make me a monster.
He moves from state to state, job to job
looking for new victims to make himself feel powerful.
And important.
Why don't you just admit it?
Dead end.
He swapped out on most of the shifts our patients died on.
Maybe he doctored the records.
And no suspicious deaths on any of his former jobs, either.
He was fired for missing shifts
to go gambling.
And neighbors confirmed a couple of knee-breakers
busted in on him last month.
Okay.
So...
we good? I can go now?
Wait a minute.
You said you got into nursing to help people, right?
Yeah, of course.
Okay.
Maybe you can help those people by helping us.
Captain, Captain, just hear me out.
I don't work in intel, Reagan.
Okay, which is why you're perfect for this.
Connor Pruitt has met everyone up in FIO.
But he doesn't know you.
I'm listening.
Okay.
He's actually also never met
any of his co-conspirators face-to-face.
He's their moneyman, but he's
only dealt with them over the phone.
Oh, COVID even had the bad guys working from home, huh?
Yeah, something like that, but he's got names,
he's got their addresses, everything on an encrypted file.
But if he thought someone else was gonna give up that info...
He might think that his leverage had vanished.
And he'd be thrown to the wolves.
Oh, Reagan.
I have already screwed up your case enough.
What, that's why you're hesitating?
It's embarrassing.
Come on, I screw up all the time.
Just ask Eddie, she keeps a list.
O-Okay.
What do you need me to do?
Come on, Sid, pop that jab!
There you go.
Nice.
Give me a minute, Terry.
How old were you here?
Oh, 23.
Must've been a hell of a night.
Yeah.
But I'm no longer a spring chicken, ain't I?
Check your driver's license.
Mine's even worse.
Boss, I still want to do this.
Full disclosure.
I talked to the department surgeon this morning.
So you could find a medical reason to DQ me?
Well, it turns out, you're kind of okay.
Really?
Yeah, but Russo is a different story.
He had a minor heart attack last year.
Surprised he had one to attack.
Oh, cut it out. Look it.
My point is, I think the real reason
he's doing this is to prove to himself he's really okay.
The only thing that kept Russo down
was the huge chip on his shoulder.
But he blames me to anyone who will listen.
Yeah, well, your reputation's safe with anyone who matters.
But it still don't sit right with me.
And beating the snot out of him does?
Look, from these pictures and what I saw in the ring,
this could be a bloodbath.
Well, as long as it's his.
Sid, I don't want to nag you on this...
Good, you can save your breath, 'cause I ain't quitting.
I'm not quitting.
Terry, come on.
Mr. Abetemarco?
You don't want to be here for this, Craig.
Official police business.
I already know my dad beat the hell
out of that Timmons guy.
You do?
He came to me last night in tears
that he lost control so bad.
Good to know he's remorseful.
Sorry you had to see your old man that way.
We're gonna bounce back. Both of us.
No doubt.
I figured someone would find out and come arrest him.
I'll lock up afterwards.
If he comes quietly, I'll pull the car around back.
No one will be any the wiser.
Come on.
Harry?
Got to talk to you.
Hello, Nurse.
Detective. What are you doing here?
I'm stopping you.
What? No, I-I'm doing my job.
The job that you do
where you come in on nights that you're not even scheduled?
What are you talking about?
Your coworker told me everything.
You don't see what I see.
The way people abuse themselves with food or booze or drugs
or are too old,
and just taking up space.
Right, so you do them a favor by killing them?
This hospital should spend
what little money they have on genuinely sick people.
Wouldn't it have been better
to ignore that kidnapper you brought in,
and help an innocent young child who needs it?
Whatever you're planning on doing with that syringe,
I promise you, this bullet's gonna be quicker.
Drop it.
I am doing the right thing!
I am making the world a better place.
No.
That's exactly what I'm doing right now.
Hey.
You know, I knew Harry Makris, too.
First day of court, way back when.
I was so nervous, I tripped going up the courthouse steps
and broke my lucky heels.
So I ran over to Harry's in my stocking feet and he...
he fixed those heels for me right there and then.
Probably saved my career before it even got started.
Man did great work.
I'm sorry he's gone, Anthony.
Now I'm hearing that Timmons is suing his estate
for the last few pennies he had.
Unless we stop him.
You said our hands were tied.
They were until I dug a little deeper
on how he actually operates.
Oh, yeah?
Take a look at this.
Wow.
Mm-hmm.
I didn't know you guys were still here.
Just finishing up.
Got everything you need?
And then some.
She can go back to her cell.
Have a seat.
I should've introduced you to her.
I've met enough suits.
Uh, no, the prisoner.
She worked for the same guys that hired you.
You're lying.
Like hell.
And it looks like she just gave us the names
that we were asking you for.
Wait, you got someone else to flip?
Yeah, lucky break.
But I was gonna flip.
Till you weren't.
I just got some final paperwork for you
to sign here and it's off to prison.
Where everyone will think I gave the names and I'm a dead man.
You made your bed, Pruitt.
No. I'll give you the info.
You go call the D.A. before they do
and get me my witness protection back.
Honestly, all this back-and-forth with you
has me exhausted.
I'm done.
Uh...
There's a safety-deposit box under my name
at Regal National Bank in Cobble Hill.
Inside is an encrypted hard drive,
and here's the password.
I guarantee it's got stuff ten times more valuable
than that lady was gonna give you.
Go call the D.A. Get me my deal back.
Captain McNichols,
would you mind having someone verify
the authenticity of this information, please?
Mm-hmm. You got it, Reagan.
Captain? You said she's a bad guy.
Yeah, look who doesn't need A.I. to dupe someone.
Guess you still can do it the old-fashioned way.
Detective Abetemarco.
What a surprise.
Wow. Looks like somebody gave you a righteous beatdown.
Somebody, huh?
It wasn't him, Mr. Timmons.
And you should be more concerned with these people.
Uh...
I don't recognize any of these people.
No?
Because you listed them as disabled plaintiffs,
denied access to stores, libraries
and parks all around the city.
Some in multiple lawsuits,
even though none of them are disabled.
Some have signed affidavits
saying they've never even met you.
Twisting people's concerns for the handicapped
to your own end?
You make me sick.
And you'll soon be a defendant,
since they'll be filing charges against you
for identity theft, obstruction of justice,
and mail fraud, so your next guests
will most likely be the FBI.
And I'll beat every one of those...
ludicrous charges by myself.
Good luck with that.
Anybody who's their own lawyer...
has a fool for a client.
You be well.
Skip the formalities, boys, just sit down.
So, I'm afraid there can't be
a Gormley/Russo bout at the smoker.
Seriously?
It was decided by the Corporation Counsel
for reasons of insurance and liability.
Why am I not surprised?
Baker?
So, out of, uh, respect
for both of you and the beef you've got,
the fight will occur at a private gym
rented for the occasion.
Now we're talking.
Yeah, good by me, too.
And since I will be acting as your referee,
you need to know that my rules differ a little bit
than those at the smoker.
One round, no time limit,
no towels thrown, no saved by the bell,
last man standing takes the title.
Please read and sign where indicated,
both pages. What's this?
Just a couple of release forms.
- Release from what? - Since the bout
can't be sanctioned by the NYPD, your health plan can't cover
any medical expenses that might result.
Fine by me. Me, too.
- That's great to hear. - In the interest
of full disclosure, I attached a schedule of standard
out-of-pocket costs for various procedures.
Third page.
I'll take a couple of aspirins.
ACE bandages, too.
What? For a busted wrist?
That's, like, heart transplant money.
Hey, come on. Don't overthink this, guys.
You're as tough as they come.
Yeah.
Yeah, let's do this.
Good.
Oh, there is one other thing.
Both fighters, regardless of their condition,
will show up for their tour the next day.
So...
let's get ready to rumble.
These prices, I, uh...
If my wife gets wind of this,
I think I'd rather fight Godzilla.
I pulled a thing sparring the other day.
They blame it on this bout...
I'm flat broke.
Well, the only other option
is to admit that there was a time in your lives
where you could strut like roosters, drink like fish
and settle beefs with fists.
But that time ain't anymore.
Yeah, for you.
Yeah. For me.
Call it a draw?
Good.
Now let's all get back to work.
CREDITS