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'In the criminal justice system,

'sexually based offences
are considered especially heinous.

'In New York City, the detectives
who investigate these vicious felonies

'are members of an elite squad
known as the Special Victims Unit.

'These are their stories.'

Tomatoes. Two for 50 cents. Special.

Just one.

- Four for a dollar.
- I only need one.

Pity.

Tragic.

- Excuse me. Police.
- Step aside. Make room here.

Benson. Special Victims Unit. Jumper?

Jumpers open the windows first.

Cleared the sidewalk, nailed the car.

All right.

Anybody notify SVU?

Because she's not wearing panties?

Just cover her up.

- Check that out.
- Hey. What are we looking at?

No forced entry. Two glasses of
half-drunk wine. Two sets of prints.

Lovers' quarrel.

Lovers' quarrel?
They usually kiss and make up.

Detective. Pack of ultra-ribs.

Looks like they did more than kiss.

Yeah. They made passionate love
and before he rolled over to sleep,

he heaved her out the window.
Through the window.

What's this outburst leading up to?

Rape.

Like I said, no forced entry.

I didn't say it was a stranger.

She wasn't exactly dressed
in her refusal outfit.

I didn't hear you say that.

Are you with
the political-correctness squad?

Elliot Stabler. Special Victims Unit.
My partner and I

were called in on apparent homicide
with sexual overtones.

Oh, right. You want it? Fine. You take it.

Scooch. Let's move it.

OK, guys. Wrap it up.

- Eight storeys up, eight down.
- Like she was shot out of a cannon.

Guy on steroids?

No. The Yankees are in Baltimore
kicking ass.

- How about testosterone-driven rage?
- Boyfriend?

Or girl. You could toss 100lb.

- Toss you, you skinny-ass geek.
- See? The rage.

- The neighbours?
- Nobody knew her beyond a wave.

She worked at home. She carried a laptop.

- Whole thing's a pyramid scheme.
- What?

Laptops. We've become a nation of
laptoppers. What happened to pens?

She went to a Dr Daniels
every Tuesday and Thursday.

Address book. What did she do?

She was a writer.
Street crazies and the mentally ill.

The Short Life Of Alice H. About a suicide.

Designer Vaginas -
Is This Health Care? New York Ledger.

Michael, Steven, Sam W. All men.
Daniels, Mark. Clinical psychology.

911 East 72nd Street.

Build A Better Orgasm, Cosmopolitan.
Somebody might kill for this.

Check the neighbourhood. You're in
court on the subway stroker case?

- Yes, sir.
- You get hung up, call me.

'This is Gretchen. Leave a message. Bye.'

'You have no messages.'

'This is Gretchen. Leave a message. Bye.'

'You have no messages.'

It was like someone was
throwing something.

And then what?

Scream, crunch
and the car alarm going off.

Did you see anybody leave?

Stick my head out and look?
Right. So he could see my face.

How long does that apartment
stay a crime scene?

- Why?
- We're on the list for one-bedrooms.

- What's your name?
- Jason Cargill.

I'm with the real-estate board.
You're off the list.

Half of them admitted they couldn't
tell their neighbours from the perp.

- Could you?
- What?

- Tell your neighbours apart?
- Why? Cos I live here?

I'm never home. I'm always with you.

- And they call suburbs anonymous.
- Queens is a suburb? Since when?

Since we got space, trees, grass to mow.

I got an eight by ten and you're mowing?

I do. Sometimes.

Kathy does all the housework.
You're never there.

OK. Kathy's the man of the house
till Dickie's old enough.

You've got nothing to worry about.
Definitely got no lawn to mow.

- Yeah. I'm a regular monk.
- Monkette.

What?

Nothing.

- Did you give Sears a call?
- Yes.

- And?
- And the limited warranty expired.

How the hell did that happen?

You wanted to buy the garbage disposal
and install it yourself.

I installed this properly.

If you guys would stop throwing
so much crap down it...

- Get off the phone, please.
- I gotta go.

Have you seen the turtle?
I left him in the sink.

When you asked the defendant

what was he thinking at the time
of the assault, what did he say?

He said he thought she was smiling
at him so he sat next to her.

The number three train at...
What stop was it?

96th Street. I think the defendant's
a professor at Manhattan University.

He took a seat and then what happened?

He struck up a conversation with her,
but on receiving no response,

- he surmised she was asleep.
- And then what did he do?

Hearsay, Your Honour.

Then what did Professor Ormond
tell you he did next?

He put his hand inside her blouse
and placed her hand on his b...

On his, erm...

genital region.

And then he made her rub him until he c...

Until he reached his intended goal.

No further questions.

How did this become your case?
Were you on duty in the subway?

No. A passenger alerted the transit police.

The case was referred
to the Special Victims Unit.

Of which you're a member?
For how long?

- Eight months.
- You're an expert on sex crimes?

- We all have something to learn.
- I'm sure.

Can you tell us the technical term
for fondling a stranger?

Fromage.

I believe it's frottage.

Frottage.

Since the passenger
turned out not to be sleeping

but was deceased,
what would you call that?

I don't know what it's called
but I call it disgusting!

You disapprove on moral grounds.
But since the victim, being dead,

couldn't have known she was being
'fromaged', where's the assault?

You look as happy as a postal worker
at Christmas.

- Make me feel better.
- We got papers from her apartment.

No threatening letters
or phone messages.

She makes JD Salinger look like a Shriner.

Tell me about it. Not one person
in her life knows she's dead yet.

Struck out with the next of kin?

On her lease application she left
'Notify in case of emergency' blank.

If he'd killed her inside,
she'd have been there for months.

Could you imagine living like that?

What?

Still a lot of Jane Does
on the books years later.

Not on ours. Somebody knows her story.

- Her shrink.
- OK. Her shrink.

Hello. Listen,
I don't accept walk-ins or couples.

- In fact, I'm expecting a patient.
- We're not a couple.

Your patient won't be coming in.

- What do you mean?
- She's dead.

We've been unable to locate
next of kin, a boyfriend...

- We're hoping you could help.
- I can't do that.

Doctor-patient, blah, blah, blah.

We could get a court order to help
you out of your ethical quagmire.

Gretchen's parents are dead.
She has a sister named Ellen Travis.

Fiancé? Boyfriend?

Not that she mentioned.
She was a very private person.

Except with you.

Well, that's what I get paid for.

The shrink didn't even ask how she died.

He was trying not to answer
our questions so didn't ask any either.

Lacerations from the glass.
Broken neck, ribs, lumbar.

- Before or from the fall?
- From.

Any sign of a struggle?

The neighbour heard a lot
of commotion before the fall.

Must have been consensual commotion.
No internal abrasions.

A gun to the head
wouldn't leave an abrasion.

I'm on your side, Detective.

I left messages for everyone
the shrink gave up, including the sister.

Voicemail, voicemail, voicemail.
Doesn't anybody pick up the phone?

- She was hiding from somebody.
- A violent ex?

- The shrink said no boyfriend.
- He seemed uncertain.

Uncooperative.

Get a court order and compel him
to stop his pussyfooting.

Jackson.

Elliot.

Stabler. Yeah.

Good. Get out of here.

Any priors? Thanks a lot. I love computers.

- The print on the wine glass?
- Matched one they got in Albany.

State prison?

State Department of Psychiatry.
Dr Mark Daniels.

Her own shrink?

I guess the pussyfooting's over.

My brother wants to be helpful
but legally his hands are tied.

His hands were in her apartment.
We lifted your prints from a glass.

Can you explain when and why
you were visiting your patient?

He was in Miss Quinn's apartment
briefly at lunchtime at her request

to attend to a crisis.

- Or an erection?
- That's insulting.

- The absence of one's insulting.
- What's your point?

What was your brother doing
in her apartment?

A brief professional consultation.

He returned to the office at 2:30
for the rest of the day.

Where were you that evening
at eight o'clock?

- I don't think...
- I was at a fellow therapist's,

a lady fellow therapist's, having dinner.

I left there around 9:00.

Have you got a name and number
on your lady fellow-therapist friend?

Dr Daniels was at my apartment
from 6:30 till 9:00.

Was anyone else home?

- No. What's this about?
- Maybe you should ask the doctor.

He is extremely busy.

Do you know any other women
he's getting busy with?

We have a professional relationship.

I have absolutely no interest
in his personal life. Excuse me.

- Do you think she's lying?
- Who can tell?

It's me.

Stabler.

Hey, buddy. Thanks for getting
back to me so quickly.

No. This is about a woman.
She wrote for you.

Perfect. See you then.

- How you been?
- Good. This is my partner, Olivia.

- How are you?
- Better looking than Alfonse.

- What happened to Fatso? Coronary?
- Retired and moved to Florida.

You know this woman?

- I don't think so.
- How about her?

Yeah. That girl on 82nd Street.
I saw the photo on the competition.

We don't go for death scenes.

- Her name was Gretchen Quinn.
- No. You sure?

Found your name in her Rolodex.

I talked to her on the phone.
She'd call to say she liked a column.

I never met her.

- You ran some of her articles.
- I'm a columnist, not an editor.

She was just another by-line to me.

- Wow. She was a...
- A what? Stone-cold fox? A babe?

No. You're a babe. And a stone-cold fox.

This girl...
This is some deep, deep well you'd fall into.

What a waste.

Maybe Munch is right.
We should get off computers.

- Relish.
- Relish.

Get out, rub elbows more.
What do you think?

- A little more relish.
- Thank you.

Her credit card shows a series
of expensive dinners,

the last one at Il Posto Vecchio for $372.

- Not cheap.
- Nope. Ah! Grazie.

So many beautiful faces to remember.

Oh, dumb me.
Will this help jog your memory?

She was with one of the anchors.
Not local. But they all look the same.

I remember her. She was with
Dallas Warner. Got a serious tip.

Those anchors make a lot of money.

Not from him, from her.
I guess she was his boss. I love that.

We're gonna lead with the Senate rep.
She was a riveting interview.

We're here about Gretchen Quinn.

Related to Sally?
My wife and I are having dinner with her.

Not Sally, Gretchen.
She was also a writer. You knew her.

Is there anylhing you can do with this?

- Mr Warner.
- Excuse us.

Yes or no?

Knew her?

Does anybody ever really know anybody?

Don't get philosophical. You're
a teleprompter jockey. We're just cops.

- I haven't seen her for a month.
- Were you on the air last night?

I'm off Saturday through Monday.
I was having dinner with my wife.

There's a roomful of waiters
who know I was there.

I assume you can confirm this
without contacting her.

If you'd like a picture of her,
I'll provide one for you.

On in five.

'Good evening. I'm Dallas Warner.'

He's either a sociopath
or really believes his line of BS.

Sociopath.

Does he think he's the second coming
of Walter Cronkite?

He granted us an interview.

Like he was doing Gretchen a favour
having her on the side.

- Hubris.
- Tell me about it.

He's already figured that her death
is less important than his life, his career.

- Oh, man.
- What?

You just know, a guy like that,
his alibi's gonna check.

Bastard.

Couple of days ago. How could I forget?

She was having drinks
with that gorgeous anchorman.

Dallas Warner.

- She didn't look happy, though.
- Why's that?

Women? Who knows?
I should have such problems.

Professional or personal?

She was stroking his arm, crying.
He was sitting up straight.

I've seen this a hundred times.
The body language, it was personal.

The man was already gone. Is that all?

Please.

I was with her Monday night.
When I heard she was dead, I was shocked.

Funny. You didn't look shocked.
You seemed rather cool, in fact.

I was being discreet, Detective.

Being discreet and lying
to the police are two different animals.

Before me she'd been
with a bunch of lying psychos.

- Do you know the other liars' names?
- No.

I was safe. I called her often
and returned her calls promptly.

What happened the last time you saw her?

She called me up, crying.

I asked her to meet for a drink.
I had time before dinner.

She told me she'd been
sleeping with her psychiatrist

for a couple of weeks.

- Why would she confide in you?
- Because I'm a good listener.

To get into somebody's pants.

If you wanna get snotty, Detective,
I'll call my lawyer right now.

And I'll ask him if you killed Gretchen.

- Why would I do that?
- To stop her blabbing to your wife.

- That's enough.
- Excuse us one second.

Detective Benson,
why don't you talk to Carmichael

and see if we can get that OBB started?

Do you want me to bust him in the grill?
We're not getting anywhere.

- It's not we, it's me.
- What's that mean?

That pompous jerk
won't deal with a woman. You go in.

- Are we good?
- We're good.

Everything all right, Detective?

Oh, yeah.

She's... You know.

Up here, you get a whole
different perspective on people.

Like ants.

Yeah. A bit.

So, we were with Gretchen's shrink.

She said that at first it had been exhilarating,

him knowing all of her darkest shadows
and falling for her anyway.

- I said she should sue him.
- Little late for that.

If you repeat what you've told me
for a grand jury...

This was off the record.

It's not a 60 Minutes interview.
It's a homicide investigation.

It's your word against mine
and mine is trusted around the world.

Oh.

How about in your own home?

How good's your word there, Dallas?

Warner seems to have a solid alibi.

He wouldn't offer dinner
with his wife in public if he were lying.

The shrink's prints were there.

I'll get the DNA order on that if I have to.

I was called about the body.
They need to make room in the morgue.

- Still no one to release her to?
- You tell me.

We got a sister in Denver
but she's as much a mystery as Gretchen.

No memorabilia in her belongings?

We haven't had a chance to look.

Well, you know when a good time
to do that might be?

From the Greek.
Necro, death. Philia, love of.

- You try it.
- Necrophilia.

- Again.
- Necrophilia.

Or Egyptian love,
according to Henry Miller.

- Necrophilia.
- Necrophilia.

Good man.

Must've had fun naming her computer files.

This is penis. Quotes.

- Do you wanna read it or should I?
- Knock yourself out.

No. That's yours.

- Anylhing?
- No.

OK. 'Biology Of The Amazons
by Gretchen Quinn.

'There's a tiny catfish feared
more than the piranha called...'

Candiru.

- Say what?
- This is beautiful. Tell him.

'It will swim into a man's penis
and lodge itself there

'by erecting sharp spines.' Ow.

That's a fish with a sense of irony.
How did you know that?

In the jungle, they taught us,
'Don't hold your nose, hold your stones.'

Bingo.

Yearbook?

- Book of poetry by Sylvia Plath.
- Of course.

Overdue 20 years
from Patterson High School.

We're on our way back.

The victim's real name
was Susan Sidarsky.

About 20 minutes. Right.

Blood tests aren't in.
The shrink and his mouthpiece are.

Let me pull the hare out for the match.

Gretchen presented classic signs
of child sexual abuse.

Overly promiscuous, very seductive,

constantly asking me if I found her attractive.

Did you?

She told me that her father started
abusing her after her 13th birthday.

- Abusing her how?
- Oh, must I be clinical? Come on.

Yes. You must.

Emotional abuse? Fondling?

- What?
- Intercourse.

In less clinical words, you mean rape.

And the minute she graduated, she ran.

She moved almost every year.

She stopped running when she got to
New York. How often did you see her?

As a patient?

- Yes, as a patient.
- Twice a week.

That must get expensive, no?

She had a trust fund,
although she refused to touch it.

I billed her insurance.

About her sexual experiences...

Well, it was anonymous

and joyless with her.

She'd take any man as long as she
picked him before he decided on her.

- A history of deranged lovers.
- Any one of whom could've done it.

Well, thank you for being so open with us.

But you left out the part
where you were her last deranged lover.

That's unfair.

So's sleeping with
a vulnerable patient who trusted you.

Listen, I never... I, er...

What?

- I never meant to betray her.
- Yeah, but you did.

I think the psychiatry board
will take a dim view of your betrayal.

There's signs all over school
about 'stranger danger'.

How do you warn 'em about
people they're meant to trust?

Priests, Scout leaders, future therapists.

How do you tell children about this
without having them be paranoid?

- We've had this talk before.
- I know. It's just...

Maureen got a B in Algebra,
which is a minor miracle.

Kathleen's orthodontist
said we mightn't need a whole retainer.

- So that should help.
- That's good.

Her therapist wasn't the only one doing her.

Her father.

- Her father?
- Yeah.

Elizabeth made you a Play-Doh ashtray.

I don't smoke.

- Course not.
- Oh.

That's nice. Where is it?

Dickie flushed it down the toilet.

Oh. Little prince.

How could anyone...?

Her father...

- Olivia.
- Oh, good morning.

- The sister from Denver's here.
- In the unit?

New York. Two-bed suite, midtown.
She's not exactly warm and bubbly.

- Grief does strange things to you.
- I don't think it's grief.

Two sisters, same abusive household,

what are the chances
it only happened to one of them?

Probably very slim. Damn it.

The vic went to great lengths
to escape her family.

To escape her father. Changing her
name from Susan to Gretchen.

Gretchen never met Daddy Sidarsky.

She ran to a different city.

She ran from man to man
trying to find comfort.

Necrophilia's not only with dead people.

- See what you started?
- I got it off the net.

Supposedly some Hollywood actor
hires hookers to lie in an ice bath.

He waits till they turn blue
before diving in.

Let's move on. Compulsive onanism.

Onanism.

Hey, the Quinn girl's sister, she's here.

- Got the release forms?
- Uh-huh.

Mrs Travis. Olivia Benson.
My partner Elliot Stabler.

- We're working your sister's case.
- Oh.

Why don't you have seat?

These are the keys
to your sister's apartment.

If you'd like to drop by,
maybe take some family items...

- Not that there'll be any.
- Why do you say that?

I haven't talked to my sister in over 20 years.

About two months ago, she called me,
saying she wanted a relationship.

And?

It was superficial... to say the least.

And then it stopped.

You're the only relative
we've been able to locate.

Your sister was somewhat of a mystery.

She was a drama queen, Detective.

No one could ever figure her out.

I thought she was nine years old
when you left for Colorado.

Well, nine-year-old girls are complicated.

Tell me about it.

You can use the phone
to call relatives about the funeral.

Our father's dead. And what funeral?

I'm here sign the papers, go to Saks
and take the next plane home.

Well, we won't keep you any longer.
Thank you for your time.

Well, she was molested. You know that.

- That cold façade of hers...
- I think it's living in Colorado.

She dresses more Fifth Avenue
than Rocky Mountain.

I'm having a fashion-police blackout.

That outfit. Gretchen's shrink said
she never touched her trust fund.

- But this one...
- It's...

Who's paying?

Who's paying?

Don't you people
have computer files of your own?

Yeah. 20,000 known sex offenders,
all cross-referenced by proclivity

- and physical characteristics.
- That true?

We can give you
every pederast in Manhattan

but this case
is out of our area of expertise.

Trent Peterson. Benson, Stabler.
Benson, Stabler, Smith and Fenwick.

- How can I help you?
- I told them about the new system

and how you can get financial data
on anybody in the free world, right?

Yes. But did the ME clear this?

Peterson, I'm on a deadline.
The Sidarsky Trust.

The sister is dipping into the vic's
trust fund? Is that what we got?

No. She had her own account.
Gretchen's just sat there and grew.

- Grew how?
- 3.5 million and still climbing.

Really? That's a lot of money
and a lot of motive.

- What's this, the inheritance?
- It's a trust.

A living trust, managed by her father.

Whoa! Wait a minute.
I thought you said the father was dead.

We were misinformed.

He lives and works in New Jersey.
You wanna know his shoe size?

What I wanna know
is the truth about these people.

All the creative people,
marketing, in-house ad staff,

that's all here in Jersey.

- The sneakers are made where? China?
- For the most part.

Mr Sidarsky, we're not here
on child labour violations.

- We don't have any secrets here.
- Oh, we all have secrets.

Er, could you please enlighten me?

Your daughter's dead, Mr Sidarsky.

What?

No! No!

Erm, does my wife know?
I have to call my wife.

Somebody threw her out of a window
on East 82nd Street.

What?

T-That's impossible.

My family are vacationing.
I was supposed to meet them on Friday.

We have a positive ID, sir.

Your second child. Born May 10th 1967.

This is Susan.

Susie was lost to me a long time ago.

Such a sad child.

Such a sad ending.

Well...

- What do you think?
- What do I think?

I'd like to slap the crap outta him.

Even if the sister came forward,
the statute of limitations is long gone.

- Maybe not.
- Meaning?

We pump her memory, it could start
the clock on the emotional abuse.

Recovered memory is such a rat hole.

- It's worth a shot.
- It's not gonna help our case.

Maybe he's not our killer.
We slap a molestation case on him.

I'm worried about that little girl
by the shore waiting for 'Daddy'!

Who's got a mother, who's still alive
and who we hope is paying attention.

Hope? Hope isn't good enough, Elliot.

I thought you didn't drink.

I don't. Doesn't mean you can't.

I'm fine.

Elliot's home with Kathy and the kids
and Munch is out somewhere.

Jeffries and Cassidy...

When we leave here,
we just disappear into the night.

Back in Homicide, we used to go out
every night and get smashed.

We'd tell war stories,
maybe fool around a bit,

and feel like crap the next morning.

- This is better.
- Oh, much.

So why are you alone tonight?

My wife was on an Orlando turn-around.

She was a flight attendant.

I was home scrubbing algae off the tiles
around the swimming pool we never used.

The one that got me in hot water
with Internal Affairs

because what's a cop doing with a pool?

And then the phone rang.

The call she always expected.

Always dreaded.

So Marge is, erm,

scattered in bits over some swamp.

And I'm home in Bensonhurst,

trying to make sense of
the test pattern on our giant TV.

Wanting so bad to drink again.

Hoping for a surrender.

Oblivion.

Kinda like our girl, the vic.

She slept with every guy on the block
just to get to that place.

Oblivion.

You get inside her head, Olivia,
and you will get to the perp.

Whatshisface, Warner, he's got a solid alibi.

Half the Upper East Side
know he's stepping out on his wife.

- What's the motive?
- Then it's the shrink, yes?

No!

Again, motive?
He did some damage, I'll admit.

Uh-uh. Psychic damage.

Where'd you get that? The Psychic Hotline?

Hey, he raped her emotionally.
But killed her?

- No way.
- OK, then, who?

I say take a look at the father.

The father who hasn't
seen her in 20 years. Why?

Because she was hiding from Daddy.

The shrink said the old man
was cunning and still patient.

He finds out she lives in Manhattan,

tells the new wife
he's got an errand to run in the city,

he goes, 'It's Daddy,'
and throws her out the window?

Mark Daniels, the psychotherapist,
was at the crime scene.

We've got his prints on a wine glass
and a pack of ribbed ultra-thins.

So, would somebody please tell me
why he is not in interrogation

being sweated by two of my best detectives?

It wasn't him. It was her father.

What if she did cash
one of her trust-fund cheques?

That's how he found her.
So he goes to her apartment.

She's banging the shrink or the anchorman.

He's possessive, jealous, all the usual crap.

The new daughter, the young one,
that's where his focus would be.

Maybe she was writing
about her pathetic childhood.

Everybody else is.

You've got to get that sister to talk.

Be my guest.

Mrs Travis, what time's your flight leave?

Soon. Not soon enough, but soon.

I'm sure your children are anxious
to see their mommy again.

They are, so if you wouldn't mind...

I wanted to say
I'm sorry we were so rough on you.

You're wondering why I didn't stay
and protect my little sister, right?

I'm sorry.

Wait! Please don't go. Please.

Did you know that you have
a little half-sister?

She's ten.
You know what will happen to her.

- No.
- The same thing that happened to you.

It was her drama, not mine.

Please. Just listen to me.

It's your drama too.

Please, we can help.

I have to go.

Just one more day. In a lifetime.

Can you imagine being a little girl
in his house?

'Don't touch me.'

- 'I only...'
- 'Only what?

'Only want to make me feel better?'

- Can we use this?
- Let's just see where it goes.

You bastard.

You cowardly, disgusting,

sick bastard.

- Ellie, honey, sweetie pie.
- Shut up.

Is that what you call your new one?
Your little sweetie pie?

'Give Daddy a taste of that sweet pie.'

Is that what you think you'll do?

I don't know what you're saying.

No?

You killed Susie. How's that?

You killed her.

Listen, I, er, talked to the police.

I wasn't anywhere near the city on that night.

Not that night.

Not the other night.

Honey, I think you're
making a rather costly mistake.

The trust fund.

Is that what you're threatening me with?

Oh, Daddy.

Stick it up your ass.

You know what Susie called it?

Blood money.

From the first time she bled
when you held her down.

- OK.
- Just like you held me down.

That's enough. It's ancient history.
Just let it rest.

I've got news for you, Daddy.

It's not ancient history.

That woman detective you met?
I met her too.

She convinced me to stay.
And guess what?

She says that if I remember things now,

a judge in New Jersey
will tell my story to a grand jury.

OK, listen, honey. Please.
I've got a new family.

I know. That's why it's all come back up.

Just as if it happened yesterday.

Which is how it feels to me

every day of my life.

What is that?

My sister wrote this.
She mailed it to Denver.

My husband, whom you'll never meet,
faxed it here.

- Shall I read it?
- What good would it do?

Do me some good!

And Susie.

'Gretchen Quinn,

'born Susan Sidarsky,

'a frequent contributor
to the New York Ledger,

'committed suicide Monday night.

'She hopes her death will point
the finger at the men responsible.

'In the end,
nothing appealed to Miss Quinn.

'No food, book or person.

'She couldn't stand her thoughts
or the touch of her skin.'

- What is this?
- Susie's obituary. She wrote it.

'She is survived

'by her ex-boyfriend, Dallas Warner,

'who was perfect,

'except for the wife and four kids,

'by Dr Mark Daniels, the therapist,

'who knew her inside and out,
literally and biblically.

'And last but not least,

'Robert

'Sidarsky,

'her father.'

Come on!

- 'Her father!'
- That's enough.

Please.

'Who took away her childhood, her virginity,

'her sense of safety and fairness
in the world.'

Ellie!

'Cause of death was from a fall,
self-inflicted.

'She was 32!'

She was...

...32!