All language subtitles for Blue Bloods S08E6 Brushed Off

You want me out?

You want me out?

This is what happens.

I'm not going anywhere.
You hear me?!

Here!
Whoa!

That is what eviction
looks like!

Hey! All right, get back.

Get all these people back.
All right.

Hey.
Step back, step back.

Back up. Whoa, back up, back up.

Hey, folks,
let's get back.

Move up.

Hey, police. Open up!

Leave me alone!

Hey. Stop.

Hey, put that down.

Hey, police!
Put those down.

Put it down.

This is my home since 1979.

I shouldn't have to leave.

On to the Belvin case.

The defense has filed
for a motion.

Are you gonna eat that

or are you just gonna move it
around on your plate?

I'm still trying to find
the other four eggs

and the pound of bacon
I normally have.

You said you wanted
to lose weight.

Do I have to lose my mind, too?

Anyway, back to Belvin.

I need you to verify

where he was from the moment
he left his house

to the exact time
of the crash.

Excuse me, Ms. Reagan?

Yes?

I'm Bev Gower.

Um...

You don't remember me?

Uh, no, but you look familiar,
I just...

I'm the wife of the man
you killed.

He's dead!

My husband is dead
because of you!

He's dead!

Calm down. Calm down.
You hear me?!

Let go of me!

Sean, come on.
You're gonna be late.

Hey, how about we
have a contest today?

Whoever has the better day gets
to choose the takeout tonight.

Yeah. Okay.

Something wrong?

Not really.

Dad, why did she die
and not you?

I don't mean that, uh...

You and Uncle Jamie
have the dangerous jobs.

But nobody ever warned
you that your mom

might not make it home
from work one day.

Yeah.

Look, if I could...

change it and bring
your mom back,

you know I would...

but I can't.

So you're stuck
with me, kiddo.

'Cause I'm not going anywhere.

Okay?

Come on. Get out of here.

Gonna be late.

Have a good day, okay?

Sir, Archbishop Kearns
is on his way up.

He's not on the schedule.

No. He said he was
in the neighborhood.

Once an altar boy...

Welcome, Your Eminence.

Thank you, my dear,
for showing me up.

Your Eminence.
Hello, Frank.

My apologies for the imposition.

Thank you, Baker.

Please, sit down.

Frank, um... I, um,

I have a moral quandary
that I need your help with.

I'm honored.

Wary but honored.

If you had a ring,
I would kiss it.

Come on, Kevin. Let's have it.

A woman was arrested
this morning in SoHo

for noncompliance
with a eviction notice.

She's a painter.

She founded the
neighborhood garden.

She fought against
gentrification.

She-she pretty much fits
the urban saint profile.

She have a name?

Uh, I'm not good
with names.

No matter. I can get
the arrest report.

The Diocese owns the building
she's lived in for decades

and recently sold
it to a developer.

I-I can't stop the sale,

but I managed to barter a
week's extension for her.

But an arrest, it seems like
adding insult to injury.

I don't void arrests.

No, I know, but you, you do have
allies in the D.A.'s office

who might be able to help
determine the charges.

One lovely young lady in
particular, I believe.

I'll relay the compliment,
if not the request.

Frank, this is gonna play out
in the press and in the parishes

as a city treasure who was
thrown out on the streets

for the wages of greed-- greed
on the part of the archdiocese--

and that's a buck
that stops with me.

What's happened to you, Kevin?

Since when do you put
the needs of an individual

before the needs of the Church?

Now that I'm rounding third
base and heading for home,

I-I'd like to spend
the rest of my days

sharing the love of God
with individuals in need,

rather than the entire flock.

Does that make any sense?

It does.

But I need your help, Frank.

This lady needs your help.

I'll see what I can do.

Thank you.

I won't take any more
of your time.

God bless you, my friend.

I look forward
to hearing from you.

Hey, surprised I beat you here.

Traffic on the Verrazano.

Yeah, but I was coming
from Uptown,

where a certain
vice detective lives.

Sounds fun.

Wow, seriously?

You don't want to know
all the juicy details?

Uh, I'm glad you had
a good time.

Okay?

Okay.

What's going on with you?

Nothing's
going on with me.

Reagan, I know you.

I know when something's
eating at you.

If you know me, then you'd know
that there's nothing wrong

when I say there's
nothing wrong.

What do we got, Cosgrove?

One male, DOA.

So we don't even know
if it's a homicide?

Not until you work
your magic.

It's not magic; it's skill.

Is that the basketball player,
Roland Jeffries?

Looks like he had
a fun night, too...

till he didn't.

♪ Blue Bloods 8x06 ♪
Brushed Off
Original Air Date on November 3, 2017

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Got to be about a dozen
news trucks down there already.

Yeah, the media is gonna have
a field day with this one.

Got cocaine residue
on his nose,

couple empties
in his pockets,

a few under the sofa.

And only two years
in the NBA.

Well, you know
what they say.

Live fast, die young.

Sir, you
need to back up now.

Would you let me
in there, please?

That is my client.

Do you want him

or the room service girl
who found the stiff?

Uh, I'm not gonna deal
with that prick.

You can.
I'll talk to the girl.

Can I talk to your supervisor?
It's okay, Cosgrove.

I'm Detective Baez.

You're Mr. Jeffries' agent?
JJ Baruch.

I can't believe this.

I'm sorry for your loss.

He ordered food and I brought it
up around 2:00 a.m.

There were three guys
here with him.

One of them laughed and asked
if I was dessert, so...

I just set up the cart
and left as fast as I could.

You get that a lot?

Guests flirting with you
and being inappropriate?

Men and women.

When people check
into a hotel,

they kind of
lose their minds.

What time did you
find the body?

About 7:00 a.m.

I-I came back for the cart,

but he was just lying there.

It's so weird 'cause I saw him
in the lobby yesterday,

and he was laughing
and seemed so happy.

Was he with his three friends
from the room

when you saw him in the lobby?

No, just fans
taking selfies with him.

Did you take a selfie with him?

No. I'm more into football.

Me, too.

All right.

I placed her
in the conference room

like you asked, though I would
have taken great pleasure

in throwing her ass in a cell.

Well, thank you
for your restraint.

- Is that the case she was yelling about?
- Yeah.

Nine years ago,
her husband, Norm Gower,

was a pro Bono lawyer
with a client named Tina Araya.

She was a heroin addict who was
arrested for stealing a car.

Gower got obsessed with her,
went to her place one night,

attacked her.

Her screams alerted
the neighbors.

He fled.

Trial took one day.
Jury took one hour.

Open and shut.

Didn't hurt that Norm
acted as his own attorney

and was in way over his head.

Or that you're
a kickass prosecutor.

Well...

You know, New York hasn't

executed anyone in 50 years.

So, how's the wife saying
that you killed her husband?

I don't know.

Let's go ask her.

Last and certainly least,

the mayor has ordered
new portraits

for all city commissioners.
No.

It's a thing for the corridor
outside her office in City Hall.

So she feels like...

Like she was actually elected,

like she actually
picked us?

I don't know.
Just say yes.

Who's painting these portraits?
Her niece? Her nephew?

I'm not sure.

Still, no.

What do you got, Sid?

That the archbishop
left a couple of things

out of his account of
Ms. Slaughter's arrest.

Her name's Slaughter?

Trudy Slaughter, yeah.

The artist?

Yeah. You know her?

I know who she is.

Call came in because
she was tossing

objects out
of a third story window

and endangering passerbys,

some of which were
cans of paint,

some of which
narrowly missed

Officers Reagan and Janko,
but repainted their radio car.

It get worse?

Officer Reagan
was able to arrest her

without further incident
or resistance.

Okay.

I didn't mean to hurt you.

Flipping over a table ain't
exactly a way to say hello.

I'm just still so angry.

I thought I wouldn't be
after all this time,

but... but then
Norm was released from prison

last month and the look
in his eyes...

I'm sorry, what?
He's not dead?

Not physically.

But inside, he is.

That's what happens when you
send an innocent man to prison.

The jury sent him after
hearing all the evidence.

He's innocent!

Oh.

I swear on my life
Norm is the sweetest,

kindest soul I've ever known--
he wouldn't attack anyone.

The victim,
Tina Araya,

ID'd him in court.

Norm spent his whole life
helping clients.

His fingerprints were
all over her apartment.

Because he rented it for her

so she could turn
her life around.

I know he screwed up
representing himself in court,

but he thought no one
could possibly believe

he'd harm Tina.

And then you
told the jury

he was an evil man
masquerading as a saint.

And I watched as each
and every one of them

started to believe you.
Mrs. Gower...

Even Norm said it was
a great closing argument.

Then the jury found him guilty,

and he was taken away.

And that's the last time
I saw my husband really alive.

March 24,

2008.

Uh...

Detective ABETEMARCO
will see you out.

Meet Roland Jeffries' three
friends from last night--

the North Side Sinners.

Boy band?
Yeah, I wish.

Try drug gang.

Narcotics says
they're new in town,

but they are from the same
neighborhood in Philly

where Roland Jeffries
is from.

Well, that explains why
they were hanging out,

but not what
happened to Roland.

Well, apparently their boss--
the guy pictured

in the mug shot there,
Santiago Cabbad--

is very paranoid.

So much so that last year,
when he thought

one of his underlings
was talking to the cops,

he made the kid eat so much coke
that his stomach exploded

and he OD'd choking
on his own vomit.

Seems like a waste of product.

Yeah, but it's a good way
to keep your crew in line.

You think Roland somehow
pissed off his old pal

and got the same treatment?

There's only one person to ask.

You got it.

I get to see my daughter
on a school night,

and she brings me dinner?

Okay, so what do you need?

What do you mean?
There is no such thing

as a free lunch or dinner.

Maybe you spend too much time
around criminals

and their lawyers.

Maybe.

There is something
I need from you.

Shoot.

What was it like when
your dad and I split up?

Well, I mean, I was
still pretty little.

Yeah, I know, but...
how do you remember me?

Kind of... unpredictable.

What do you mean?

One minute you'd be

running around, all smiles,

going, "Everything is
gonna be great,"

and then, the next minute

you'd be in your room
crying... loud.

What else?

Oh, and this kid

in soccer I had a crush on--
Jeff Butler--

you said not to even bother,

that "no man can be trusted,

especially the ones
that seem the nicest."

Sorry about that.

Look, what's this all about?

I put a man away nine years ago

on the same day
your dad and I got a divorce.

March 24, 2008.

The man's wife has always
maintained his innocence.

Blindly, I always thought.

But maybe you were
the blind one,

given all that was going on.

I hope not.

But that's what keeps
kicking around in my head.

What do we got, boss?

Cabbad and a dozen
of his boys

just went in about
a half hour ago.

You run a camera under the door,
see who's where?

Was I supposed to?

Well, it'd be nice
for me and my partner

not to get our heads
blown off when we walk in.

All right, whatever.
Let's go, we'll follow.

Let's move.

Go! Go! Go!

Police!
Everybody down!

Are we gonna go?

No, we're gonna wait till
they clear the building,

and then we'll go-- protocol.

Since when do you care
about protocol?

Clear!
Since now.

Kill Roland?

Nah, man, he's my boy
from way back.

Yeah, such an inspirational
story, the two of you.

Both coming up out
of the mean streets

of Philly.

He makes it to the big leagues,

and you make it
to the Big Apple.

Except he plays ball
and you sling dope.

Big difference.

We all got talents.

What went wrong
the other night?

Nothing. We hung out
in the bar for a while.

Played some Xbox in his room,

then me and my crew split.

Is it just me, or is he omitting

a very important part
of the timeline?

The part where they did
a boatload of coke.

Yeah, that part.

Hey, only Ro was getting high.

And I'm a Jamaican jet pilot.

Fine, we might have done some,

but he Hoovered up most of it.

Ro never could
shake his thirst.

Uh-huh.
Must have OD'd.

Right. Except we have
a different theory.

Which is that he didn't want
to pay for the hookup--

that he thought you and your
buddies should be thankful

you were even allowed
to hang out in a suite

with a superstar
like him.

'Cause when
one of your homies

gets too big
for his britches, Cabbad,

you cut him down to size.

Yeah, sure do, don't you?

I don't know, maybe you, uh...

What's that?

Speak up,
I can't hear you.

I said you got your head
up your ass, man!

You son of a bitch.
Hey!

- How about I kick your ass for you, man?
- Hey, hey!

Get off me.

I didn't kill my friend!

Keep smiling.

I'm gonna wipe that smile
off your face, you punk.

What the hell is
wrong with you?

What happened to protocol?

Come-- look at him.
No.

Get out of here before
you ruin this damn case.

No, we're gonna...

Go.

Officer, this has been resolved.

I have another week.

Frank Reagan, Ms. Slaughter.

I know who you are.

May I come in?

Uh, sure.

Is it true the archdiocese
offered you

a million dollars
for this place?

Is that what this is?

What what is?

Well, first I get
strong-armed by the Church,

and now by the State?

No.
It sure feels that way.

Not my intention.

Why don't you just
take the money?

This has been my home
and my studio since 1979.

I can't replace it
at five times that amount.

And even if you could...

it wouldn't be the same.

What are you doing here,
Mr. Reagan?

The archbishop asked
if I would try

to find a way to help you out
of the jam

you got yourself into.

Why?

He feels guilty.

And, to be honest, he knows

he's in for some bad press
if you get into the system

and your story gets picked up.

Unless that's what
you're looking for,

to make another scene.

Sorry about that.

I kind of lost it.

Your sentence could be
community service.

Namely, to paint my portrait.

Comes with
a thousand-dollar stipend.

Uh, you see that little piece?

That's $3,000.

You'd make mine wallet-size.

You can paint a portrait, right?

What is that supposed to mean?
Don't get me wrong.

Your work is beautiful.

But there's no people in it.

Yes, I can paint a portrait.

I always loved that one.

You've seen it before?

No, I meant Zito's Bakery.

Bleecker and Cornelia.

I can still smell the bread.
Miss that.

Do we have a deal?

Gets me off the hook?

I'm afraid I can't change
the fact that

you're gonna have to move.

My office will be in touch.
Thank you.

Hello, sis.

Ah, Danny.
Right on time.

For what?
For you to try

to strong-arm me into
charging Santiago Cabbad.

What?

You don't think
I get a heads-up

the moment you arrive
and start badgering

all the ADAs
about some case?

Takes you 20 minutes
for them

to shut you down,
and then you come up here.

That is not true.

Really?

Okay, it is true.
Can you help?

Sorry, Saul already
filled me in.

Cabbad and his friends
testing positive for cocaine

only proves that they partied
with Roland Jeffries,

not that they killed him.

Okay, so that's it?

I am happy to charge
them with the drugs

that you found
at their place.

Great. So now I look like

a complete idiot
for nothing.

Can you help me with
something else, then?

Sure.

The other day,
Sean reminded me

that, with their mom gone...

the boys have
nobody else.

If anything should
happen to me, that is.

You know, they'd
be all alone.

They're never gonna be
all alone.

You know the way kids think.

So now you're scared
of getting hurt?

I'm not scared,
I'm just...

Since Linda's been gone,

I'm just having a hard time

separating personal
from the job.

Join the club.

I may have gone after a guy
hammer and tongs

back when I was
getting divorced,

because deep down inside,
I was pissed at Jack.

What's happening to us?

Turns out, we may have flaws.

Well, speak for yourself.

It's the M.E.

Reagan.

Yeah.

Yeah, I got it.

Cabbad just squirmed free.

Didn't make your Vic OD
on cocaine?

The M.E. found coke
in his system,

but that's not what killed him.

What killed him
is a lethal injection

of potassium chloride
mixed with morphine.

Which is the same thing
they use in executions.

So, too sophisticated
for a bottom-feeder like Cabbad.

Way too sophisticated
for Cabbad.

Which means the only thing
I have

besides a dead body is squat.

- Through Christ Our Lord, Amen.
- Amen.

This whole daylight
savings time racket

throws my digestive system off.

Dinner table conversation.

- Please.
- I just meant

that I was hungry an hour ago
because of the time change.

I wish they would
just do away with it.

Write your congressman.

Democrats don't have any strings
to pull these days.

Some logic
you got there, Gramps.

- Hmm.
- Speaking of which,

I collared an artist the
other day on a felony

criminal mischief.

Throwing cans of paint out her
window, one of them hit our car.

Did you hear about this?

Something about it, yeah.

Well, I ask when my grand jury
appearance is,

and they tell me she walked.

Said strings got pulled
from the top.

Well, she didn't just walk.

She got community service.

That's it?

That's it. Yeah.

You don't think
we can't tell by now

when you know more
than you're saying?

Tight lips.

That's how he got where he got.

Wait, come on, Dad,
what's the story?

She is being evicted
from her loft

because the archdiocese sold
her building out from under her.

So His Eminence asked me
to try to find a way

to soften her landing.

That's all.

While the archdiocese cashes

their tremendous check.
I mean, it's just not right.

They're closing down schools.

That's another thing you should
write the congressman about.

Don't tempt me.

Maybe they can close
down my school.

That'd be cool.

Oh, maybe we'll just
find you a stricter school.

That'll be cool.

What's her community service?

Portraits.

What was that, Francis?

The mayor has ordered up a round
of new official portraits.

Oh.

And she's doing yours?

Yes.

What did you say this artist
looked like, exactly, Jamie?

Smoking hot.

Oh.

Which has absolutely nothing
to do with anything.

Right.
Which he says defensively.

Which he said truthfully,
period.

Could we just talk
about something else now?

Sure.

- Thank you.
- Yeah.

So how does this
exactly happen...

...getting your portrait painted?

Yeah, do you get to, like,
pose in her studio for days?

Dad, you should do this guy.

No, Rocky.

Balboa.

Hey Regan.

Morning.

Hey. Hey.

I've been thinking about who
else might've killed Roland J.

And I don't want to hear it.

Now what's your problem?

I mean, I don't want to hear it
until I say what I got to say,

which is, you were right.

I've been all screwed
up in the head lately,

and it's put me
on the back foot,

and I should've told
you, but I didn't,

so I'm sorry.

Do you want to talk about it?

Pretty sure I just
did talk about it.

I guess a few drops of blood
from a stone is progress.

All right. Tell me about
Roland's killer.

I like JJ Baruch.
The agent?

Who barely batted an eye at
the crime scene the other day.

Well, what do you expect?
He's an agent.

They don't care about people.

They only care about money.

Well, I also learned he took
out a life insurance policy

on Roland just last year.

Okay, now you have
my attention.

And his brother is a doctor,

which is where he
could've learned

about potassium chloride.

Okay, now you really got
my attention.

Good. I'm glad you think so,

because you get to search
the pharmacy records

for anyone who's gotten
potassium chloride

and morphine recently.
Come on.

There's got to be a thousand
pharmacies in this city.

I mean, there's one
on every street corner.

Yeah. Well, then,
you better hop to it.

Tina Araya.

Ms. Reagan.

Well. I'm surprised you remember
after all these years.

You look good.

Yeah. It's amazing
what kicking heroin can do

to a girl's complexion.

But that's not why you're here.

No, it's not.

You finally figured out
the truth.

You want to tell me,
or should I lay it out for you?

I lied about Mr. Gower
attacking me.

Right.

So who did it?

My boyfriend, Max.

But you told your neighbors,

you told the police
that Norm did it.

I just didn't want Max
to get in trouble.

I know that sounds crazy,

but back then we were so
wrapped up in the drugs.

And Max got mad at me
because I didn't score that day,

so he started beating me up,

and I started
screaming, and then,

suddenly, he ran off and
everyone starting showing up,

so I had to
say something.

We put an innocent man in jail

for the past nine years.

Not you, Ms. Reagan.

Me.

Okay? You just did your job.

Where is Max?

I don't know.

He dumped me
a couple months later.

I mean, I felt so
guilty about all of it,

I decided
to get clean.

And...

So I can believe in myself.

The way Norm
always believed in me.

You knew I was gonna find out.

I hoped you would.

And...

I destroyed Norm's life.

So...

Thank you.

You know, for doing
what I never could do.

Come on. Can't you just
take a look?

I'm sorry, I can't help you.

Look, all you got to do

is just, you know,
tap a few keys here,

bring up the names of anybody

who's had morphine and potassium
chloride in the last few months.

Yeah, we already did
all the hard work,

digging through prescriptions
in millions of pharmacies.

And by "we," she means "me."

To disclose
that name would be

to violate federal
HIPAA regulations.

You know what HIPAA
stands for, right?

Yes.

The Health Insurance
Portability...

And Accountability Act.
I already know that. Okay?

But just help us out. Come on.

You want the name,
get a warrant.

What if you just tell us
the person's initials?

Or what if I attend to customers
who need my assistance?

Mrs. Dettenmeier.

Let me see if that
prescription's ready.

So what's next?
We pick up Baruch

and try to sweat
a confession out of him?

I don't know.

One second.

Excuse me.

Fan of Roland Jeffries, huh?

Yo, can you believe he's gone?

Tell me about it.
It's heartbreaking.

You interested in any, uh,
Roland Jeffries merchandise?

Are you kidding?

Well, I know his agent, uh,

JJ Baruch.
He's got a bunch

of signed stuff,
and he gives it to me,

but I have no use for it.

That'd be tight.

Great. Great.

I just need you to do
one thing for me.

- You get it?
- Sure did.

Good.

Your boss didn't see?
I told him someone

in the heartburn aisle
had questions for him.

Good man.
Hey, what about my merch?

This is my card.
You call me in a week,

you'll get your merch.
You know I will.

I'm sure you will, now beat it.

All right, what do you got?

Someone named Diane Vickers?

Vickers. That's the, uh,

the girl in the hotel
who I spoke to

while you were
speaking to Baruch.

Diane?

No, it wasn't Diane,
it was Darla.

You think it's any relation?

There's only one way
to find out.

I'm just gonna
have you sit here.

And this is just for the light.

The, uh, the background
will actually be different.

The city in flames?

Why would you say that?

Your work wasn't always
so apolitical.

My work is still political,
just in a different way.

And how would you know?

Different how?

I always tried to paint
what I saw.

New York in the late '70s.

AIDS, "Giuliani time."

But this isn't that.

No... no.

Now I paint the New York
that I miss.

The one where the loft we're in
wasn't the price of a mansion.

I miss that New York, too.

What's going on here,
Mr. Reagan?

I'm sitting for my portrait,
and please call me Frank.

Okay, Frank.

But there's something else.

Early in the evening
in the blackout of '77,

you came up to a cop

on the corner of Bleecker
and MacDougal.

You couldn't reach the friends
you were supposed to crash with.

And I ended up in a bar.

I knew the bartender.

Georgie Boy Farrell.

Anyway, I came by later at
closing time to check on you.

And I'd gotten
pretty drunk, I guess.

Yeah, but one of the waitresses
had a couch,

and she offered to put you up,
so I knew you'd be okay.

Oh.

Did we...?

No.

But you kissed me.

And not just for a second.

I kissed a lot of guys
in those days.

And I kissed one girl a lot
in those days.

My wife.

But I remembered your name.

And I thought people like you
who came to New York

in those mean old days

were like lambs
to the slaughter.

I don't know,
I guess that's how it stuck.

Yikes.

So... I would check
the Village Voice,

and go to galleries
where you showed

and...

do you have a camera?

Uh, sure. Why?

Well, you're gonna have
to take a couple of snaps

and paint from that.

I am, after all, the police
commissioner of New York City.

I do not have time
to sit for portraits.

Of course.

At a certain point,
I think it's important

to take stock of what you had.

But also...

if you get the chance,
what you missed, too.

Don't you think?

Yeah.

That's all this is.

Frank, did you ever think
to come to an opening, you know?

Come up and say hi?

Yeah.

I thought it.

Hey, Darla.

Detectives.

Uh, we had a few questions.

Do you mind if we come in?

Of course.

It's okay. Shh, shh.

Who is this?
My son, Evan.

He's a cutie.

Yeah.

Um...

who's Diane Vickers?

My mother.

Your mother.

Um, is she here?

Could we talk to her?

Mom!

- Can you come out here?
- Yes.

Let me put him down.
I'll be right back.

Hi, I'm Detective Reagan.

This is my partner,
Detective Baez.

You have a prescription
for potassium chloride,

is that right?

And about ten million
other things.

Furosemide

for my blood pressure,

beta blockers
for my arrhythmia,

modafinil

to wake me up,

morphine to help me sleep.

Here's the boxes for potassium.

Which is odd because I don't
think I take it anymore.

You don't think?

Some of my meds
make me forgetful.

That's why Darla is in charge
of everything.

She is?

Yes, Darla's in charge

of all of my prescriptions.
Picking them up,

making sure I take the right one
at the right time.

Ooh, she's a godsend.

She sure is.

Ah, we're gonna go
talk to her now, okay?

Is everything okay?

Darla.

Darla!

Darla.

Ms. Vickers, can you come down
here and watch the baby?

It's okay. Where's your mom?

Go that way.

Darla, stop!

Hey!

Hold it!

Hey, stop!
Leave me alone!

Stop.

Put the scissors down.

Come on, put 'em down.

No, you should
want me to die.

You know what I did.

I don't want anyone to die.

Okay? But you're gonna
get yourself killed

or hit by a car if you don't
step away from the street.

Come on. Talk about what
happened with Roland, okay?

Come on.

Stop! Stop.

He was here last year...

for the same award show.

I brought him room service
and he poured me a drink.

When I found out I was pregnant,
I-I called him,

but he hung up.

And I told his agent,
and he said I was lying,

and-and that-that they'd sue me.

They did you wrong, okay?
I get it.

I wouldn't have killed him

if he had just acted
like me and Evan exist.

Evan does exist.

And he needs his mom.

No, not if I'm in jail.

All kids need their moms.
All right?

And they need them alive.

Just put the scissors down,
get out of the street.

No.

And let's go give your boy
a hug, okay?

Come on.

Come on.
Please.

Thanks for helping me.

But it's too late.

Hey!

All right?

My investigator, Anthony,
tracked down Max

in East New York,
and with his confession

and Tina recanting
her testimony,

the judge has agreed

to dismissing
the original charges

and vacating
your felony conviction.

I can't believe it.

On behalf of this office
and me, personally,

I'd like to apologize for
the injustice you have endured.

The State endeavors
to render

a true verdict in every case,

but we clearly failed
in this one.

And... without your wife
and the unconventional way

she brought it to my attention,

this wrong would have gone
uncorrected.

All I ever wanted was for
people to know I'm innocent.

Well, there is someone else
who would like to apologize.

Tina.

I'll step outside.

Mr. Gower,

look, I know I changed
your life horribly.

No, you heard me right.

I would like you
to reinstate the compensation

for Ms. Slaughter's eviction.

That ship has sailed.

Call it back to the dock.

I can't.

Frank, the final selling price
subtracted that offer.

It's already done.

I can't claw back
a million dollars.

In addition, the archdiocese
will reimburse her

for her legal and
moving expenses.

Or what?

Or I think the story you came to
me to prevent from getting out

could get out.

You're extorting the Church?

Oh, come on, Kevin.
You came to me.

I came to you as a friend,
as an envoy of our Lord.

As a New Yorker looking to get
a New York problem fixed,

just like a thousand other folks
who came through that door.

Oh, I'm disappointed, Frank.

I'm shocked and I'm dismayed.

Well, don't be.
It's just business.

Is it really?

What's that supposed to mean?

It doesn't sound to me
like "it's just business."

If it means do I have
a personal interest in this,

I do not.

Then why the hard line?

The Trudy Slaughters
of this city

are what gives your real estate
its outrageous value.

Your profits are built
on the pioneering they did

their whole lives.

So consider it a bargain.

For who? You or me?

How's it going over there?

I'm all done.

Mm, good.

So, maybe we can have
a little talk?

I feel bad about
what I said.

Never feel bad about telling me
the truth, okay?

Besides, you... you made me
think about some things

I probably should've
thought about a long time ago.

Like what?

Like if you and your brother
think me being a cop

is too dangerous...

I don't want you to quit.

I just want you to be safe.

Okay.

But from now on, you and
your brother do get a vote.

All right?

Everything will be
a family decision

because that's what we are
and that's what we'll always be,

a family.

Me, you, your brother
and your ma.

God rest her soul.

She was brave for you.

We can be brave, too.

I think she'd like that.

It's not what you expected.

I didn't know
what to expect.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man