Original subtitles

♪ Ah, yeah ♪

♪ Sugar shake, sugar shake ♪

♪ Ah, yeah ♪

♪ Sugar shake, sugar shake ♪

♪ Bad ass stripper, gonna flip you on your back ♪

♪ Help you to the bed, take your stack of $50 bills ♪

♪ Sugar shake, sugar shake ♪

♪ Sugar shake, sugar shake ♪

♪ On the table, international via cable ♪

♪ Top, never ever stop, drop you to the ground ♪

♪ Like a cop ♪ ♪ Sugar shake, sugar shake ♪

♪ Sugar shake, sugar shake ♪

CROWD ( chanting): She Hate Me! She Hate Me!

She Hate Me! She Hate Me!

ANNOUNCER: She Hate Me leads the Manhattan Minx against

the Brooklyn Clobbers here at the Big Apple Roller Rink.

Come on!

Come on now!

That's it, that's it, come on! Get up!

( whistle blows)

Get up!

WOMAN: Elbow penalty! Foul!

( indistinct shouting)

( crowd groaning and cheering)

REPORTER: I'm here with Stan Vonner and his wife,

owners of the Manhattan Minx.

New York City isn't

Queens or Brooklyn, it's Manhattan.

And that's where we skate.

( grunting and groaning)

If you're a little girl, would you rather play

with a Brooklyn Clobber doll or...

A Minx doll?

Right here, it's the only place

where you can get a She Hate Me doll.

And it's the only place where you can see the real deal skate.

Seven wins and no losses.

The true queens of New York are on the Minx.

( indistinct shouting)

( grunting)

Come on!

You all right?

I got her. Get her back in there.

I think I pulled something.

Hey, wait, wait, wait right there.

Come on, get her... No blood, no foul.

Stay down, bitch! You'll be safer!

Go! Go! Kick her ass! You, get in there!

( shouting)

Come on, come on! Rip her!

That's it. Get down now.

( shouting)

( groans)

( whistle blows)

Foul, that's a foul!

( whistle blowing)

( grunting and shouting)

( hushed murmuring)

( distorted voices)

Is she all right?

Come on up, girl.

It's a simple game.

The jam is a two-minute period where each team

tries to score points by having their jammer

lap members of the opposing team.

You cannot know this.

Someone took me to a game.

Nobody would ever take you to a Roller Derby game.

Oh, unless you were on a date.

It was fun.

The game or the date?

All right.

External signs of blunt force trauma.

TAYLOR: Like someone came down directly on her face with a skate.

Anyone else sustain an injury like this?

Vic's the only target.

Indicates intent.

Got an I.D. on her?

She Hate Me.

Somebody did.

♪ Out here in the fields ♪

♪ I fight for my meals ♪

♪ I get my back into my living ♪

♪ I don't need to fight ♪

♪ To prove I'm right ♪

♪ I don't need to be forgiven, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ♪

♪ Yeah. ♪

( indistinct radio transmission)

Thank you.

Stella.

Yeah?

I got an I.D. on She Hate Me.

Name's Rose Wilson.

She's 22 years old from Matewan, West Virginia.

Coal mining country.

Tough girl.

Someone was tougher.

I'll let you know what I find.

Thanks.

MAC: I'll need all your clothes.

What about the Clobbers? We already

have their uniforms.

Here you go.

( women chuckling)

My skirt is really tight.

Can you just help me out with this?

I'll, uh... I'll need

your skates, as well.

If you help me, I'll teach you how to jam.

Detective Monroe will collect all your clothes.

You can just leave everything in front of your lockers.

Be right back, ladies.

( women speaking indistinctly)

I think she liked you.

It's the uniform.

HAWKES: Not a very creative body dump.

Does the job, right?

Who called it in?

Those two over there.

That's great.

If the vic's missing any blood,

we'll know the Dracula twins did it.

Ready? Yep.

I don't think he has any I.D.

Petechial hemorrhaging.

No ligature marks.

Nothing that says he was strangled.

So C.O.D. is most likely asphyxiation

due to some sort of smothering. All right.

What do you want...

Body or scene?

Come on. Scene.

Be careful when you're washing him off.

Trace has a tendency to... Want me to stick around

and give you pointers how to process a crime scene?

All right, come on in.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

STAN: We've been here two hours, Officer.

My wife and I need to get a press release out.

Can we go now? As soon as

you finish telling me who had a beef

with She Hate Me.

It was impossible not to love her.

One look at her and everybody knew she was

gonna be a breakout star. She had the first

endorsement contract in the whole league.

( camera clicking) MAN: Right there, Rosie.

Yeah, baby, right there. Right there.

Yeah, you're the whole franchise.

That's that million-dollar smile, baby, right there.

You see, there's a reason not to love her.

Especially if you're a girl

who also wants to be the breakout star.

Oh, not on the Minx.

We won as a team and lost as a team.

That's the way it was when I wrestled.

In college, not that phony stuff.

And that's the way

it is now.

Someone felt different.

Well, talk to the Brooklyn Clobbers.

Yeah, they're all jealous of my girls.

We're better looking,

we're better skating and to top it off, we're from Manhattan.

You chalking this up to an inter-borough rivalry?

Do you know what a tipping point is, Detective?

It's the precise instant when momentum swings in your favor.

The Minx were right there.

We were going places,

with Rose leading the way.

But without her...

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Good news.

Your girlfriend might be in the clear.

Based on?

This.

Found hair consistent with the victim's matted in blood

on the underside of this skate.

Hmm. Looks like half these skates have blood on them.

Blood transfer.

Which makes sense,

given that there was a brawl.

Wheel rolls through the blood pool.

This is the only skate with spatter.

Which speaks to a deliberate act with a specific target.

Good work.

Whoever owns this skate must be a tough customer.

Oh, yeah.

She's Hallie On Wheels.

Brianna, we don't hit.

You ask nicely, all right?

Guess you're one of those

do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do daycare providers.

Maybe I caught her in the pile once.

The blood on the bottom of your skate

says you did a little bit more than "catch" her.

You attacked her.

( shouting and grunting)

Do you know how a four-year-old understands frustration?

They don't.

I deal with ten little people for eight hours a day,

and not one of them understands the concept.

Well, that sounds...

Frustrating.

It was.

Till I started skating with the Brooklyn Clobbers.

You didn't like the victim very much, did you?

All I want out of Roller Derby is "me time."

Well, I know a place you can go to get a lot of that.

Let's go.

Someone loved She Hate Me.

Or at least had sex with her.

Semen? Mm-hmm.

Well, she wasn't married

and Flack didn't say anything about her having a boyfriend.

And your fatal blow to the head

wasn't actually fatal.

She died of massive internal organ failure

due to hyperthermia. At 22?

With no known pre-existing condition?

Take a look.

These look melted.

Liver, kidney and heart

all have dendritic patterns of pale spots

consistent with ischemic necrosis.

Your report indicates

that her body was under acute stress.

She cooked to death.

From the inside out.

( sighs)

HAWKES: Hey.

Hammerback confirmed cause of death.

Also got an ID on our vic.

His name's Griffin Holden.

His editor put out a missing persons.

Apparently, he was some sort of...

Writer.

Yeah.

It was everywhere.

And the handwriting's consistent throughout,

so there's no way he did the writing.

So what are we looking at, some kind of sociopath?

Who writes phrases like:

"He finally knew there are as many Manhattans

"as there are residents on the island.

Each of us a city unto ourselves."

That's not very threatening.

I think it's from a book.

What makes you say that?

Check this out.

This was on the pinkie of his left foot.

"The end."

Dinitrophenol.

DNP?

Found in Rose's system? Yeah.

It's a chemical. Right.

It's used for dyes,

wood preservatives, explosives.

It also jump-starts the human metabolism

to a point where it generates heat

instead of usable energy.

It's a very dangerous weight-loss drug.

It's illegal because it has a nasty habit

of cooking one's internal organs.

Especially when you already have

an above-normal body temperature

from all that skating.

Right.

So that gets Hallie On Wheels off the hook.

Also means Rose could have been taking it herself.

No. I searched her apartment from top to bottom,

there was nothing there.

There were no injection marks on her body,

and no signs of ingestion.

So, if she wasn't taking it knowingly...

Someone was slipping it to her.

Griffin was brilliant.

He wrote these, you know,

esoteric novels-of-the-mind

that I loved...

and could not sell.

Until this.

His latest?

Yes, a psycho-sexual thriller set in the upper echelons of Manhattan society.

I read it out loud, it was so good.

"Her mouth tasted of my sister."

Oh, that's genius.

I bet you can sell it.

It's so good, it sells itself.

I've already got the movie deal wrapped

and the lead roles cast.

Except for one thing.

You're missing the last chapter.

How did you know that?

I got a sneak peak.

Where?

Down at the M.E.'s office.

Here are the galleys for tomorrow.

And you promised you would read my manuscript.

I'm having a conversation with your boss.

I'm... I'm sorry, I need these.

I'll read your manuscript.

Oh, and your husband called.

He said he's on his way.

He's supposed to meet me

at Dr. Shaeffer's.

He's on one of his I-hate-being-a-lawyer kicks.

You know how he gets. Why were you the one

that filed the missing persons on Griffin?

I was worried. Griffin understood

that this could be very big for him.

Still could be very big. For you.

What are you saying? Griffin seemed to know a lot

of people; you beat them all to the punch

to report him missing.

Death is never a bad thing for business, right?

Especially when you're peddling a psycho-sexual thriller.

Ready for Dr. Shaeffer?

( sighs)

I would like that last chapter.

Won't do you any good,

'cause I'll be taking this with me.

Excuse me.

She turned into a beautiful, young woman, didn't she?

Yeah.

Named "She Hate Me."

You know what?

Maybe "she"... hate "me."

You mean, the pictures of her as a child serve as warning photos?

Do whatever it takes to stay a swan, because if you don't...

You'll end up back here.

Speculative theory, at best.

It's all we have.

( printer whirring)

Not all.

We have the source for our poison.

Contains DNP,

along with traces of DNP's degradation product,

aminonitrophenol... ANP.

And since there's only one team trainer...

We have a suspect.

I'm going to get Flack on it.

MAN: It's clinically defined as "hypergraphia,"

a manic disorder characterized by

an irrepressible urge to write.

After killing somebody?

Hypergraphia is not usually associated

with elevated levels of violence.

However, a stressful event such as... Murder?

Would induce a particularly feverish episode.

Yeah, well, the killer we're

looking for must've been on fire.

He couldn't find anything else to write on.

It's not a choice.

It's a compulsion.

MAN: For those with hypergraphia,

the limbic system facilitates connections

between the temporal lobes on the side of the brain

and the frontal lobes behind the forehead.

Combining areas of creative thought

with drive and motivation.

Fascinating.

It's kind of like a super writer.

Well, it makes them prolific,

not necessarily talented.

Yeah, but this guy was.

And if the killer wasn't, that might explain motive.

You're certain the writing on the body

is the final chapter of his manuscript?

And, uh, if it is his book, and no one knew the ending,

how does the last chapter end up on him

in someone else's handwriting, right?

You like doing that, don't you?

Waiting for the meter to turn.

I'm just trying to heal my pain.

My skirt is really tight,

Can you just help me out with this?

First time as a murder suspect,

and I don't even get the cop of my choice

to bust my chops.

I'll send Detective Taylor your regards.

I'm ready to send him a lot more than just my regards.

Why don't you focus on what you're doing?

And in the meantime, fill me in

on how you got the DNP in the muscle cream.

I didn't put anything in there.

Maybe it just came in the jar?

Like you didn't realize you were getting

the kind with bonus poisons in it

when you were at the drug store?

I only buy the stuff to help the team.

Well, team owner says you guys were ready for the big time.

Why not let him buy?

Because his idea of "big time"

is a spread in Playboy

and a Real Sex documentary on cable.

As if I don't get stared at enough out here.

Someone was buying what he was selling.

Yeah.

Rose.

( camera shutter clicking)

You know the ad Mr. Madison Avenue

wanted to sell?

"Kingdom of Jamalot."

PHOTOGRAPHER: Enough with the smoke, guys.

All right, ladies, let me see the eyes.

Give me attitude. Yeah, that's it.

Nice.

Thought we were keeping focus

on what we're doing here.

Do you want to be left alone with yourself for a moment?

No. But I think I want to spend some more time with you

down at the squad room.

( siren blaring)

Hey. Hey.

Did Flack get anything from your girlfriend?

Yeah, the one that took you to the Roller Derby?

There is no girlfriend.

Ms. Part'Em had nothing to say to Detective Flack,

beyond a description of the Kingdom of Jamalot.

And without more evidence, we're stuck.

Well, maybe this will help.

Unidentified blood sample.

Male DNA.

Collected by you

from inside the Roller Derby oval.

Probably the only male sample I collected.

Exactly. What's the other half of the equation?

The DNA matches the semen sample

taken from inside Rose Wilson.

We've been looking for somebody who hated Rose,

maybe we should look in the opposite direction.

Someone like Coach Chisholm.

And since Ryan Chisholm wasn't just a coach to Rose Wilson...

There's something rotten in the Kingdom of Jamalot.

There we go, there we go. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Easy, easy...

Mr. Chisholm... or should I say Coach?

I'm Detective Bonasera, NYPD.

You know, why don't we just take a walk, all of us.

Okay, all right, fellas, this way, come on.

This way, come on, baby.

BONASERA: Tell me about your relationship with Rose Wilson.

She's the one who came after me.

I need you, Ryan.

Oh, yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

A stunningly beautiful woman...

on her way to becoming a New York City icon

in an utterly unique sport

would tie herself down

to a faded minor-league baseball player

who got banned for life from the game

because he had steroid use?

I did not use steroids.

Oh, I'm so sorry, that's right, I forgot,

you also distributed them.

I don't know anything about DNP or weight loss drugs.

And I sure as hell wouldn't have done anything

to hurt Rose. Yeah, as long

as you thought you could still have a piece of her.

Being Mr. Rose Wilson would be a lot better

than being Mr. Dog Walker.

So you think I poisoned her 'cause she wanted out?

Well, go ahead, prove it.

All you're doing here is looking for help

that you're not going to get.

Come on, baby.

Got something, partner?

Hey.

Looks like dried skin.

Maybe a callous.

Think you can get DNA off that?

I'm going to try.

Anything else on the carpet?

Yeah.

I got semen from our vic

and a female pubic hair

from an unknown donor. Nice.

Plus, multiple fibers.

And, technically,

it's a rug.

( chuckles) Yeah.

Bought at auction at Christie's for $85,000.

Eighty-five grand? Yeah.

Which means they probably didn't pay in cash,

so it's possible

Christie's helped you track down the owner?

All the way back to the vic's brother.

MESSER: You're good at filing missing rug reports.

Not so good at the missing persons thing, though.

I hadn't seen Griffin for three weeks.

There was nothing unusual about that.

That's it?

I come in here and I tell you your brother's dead.

All you say to me is you haven't seen him in three weeks?

Nothing more to say.

You know what? There is.

Why don't you tell me why you're lying to me?

Your brother filed an assault complaint against you

just a week ago.

Looks like the two of you got into it.

Griffin refused to get a real job.

Writing is a real job.

Not if you don't sell anything.

I need more money.

This is why I'm in charge of the family trust.

So I cut him off.

For good.

But you did give him a parting gift.

We found your brother

in that fancy rug of yours.

He probably stole it on his way out.

What, is he a Big Lebowski fan?

Just decided to take the rug for the heck of it?

No, that's the kind of person he was.

I expect it back.

I'm sorry, it's evidence.

Just like the sample of your handwriting I'm going to need.

TAYLOR: We can't definitively tie anyone

from the Roller Derby league to the DNP found

in the vic's muscle cream.

The news gets worse.

The quantity of DNP found in the cream was insufficient

to cause death.

She must have been getting it from another source.

Let's expand our search, go back to the locker room,

collect every lotion, gel, and cream you can find.

Okay.

Do you really need all these?

Oh, I thought you said

you wanted me to collect everything.

No, I mean, women.

Do you need all these products?

You're asking me?

I work in a lab.

Okay, well, we know the DNP

was in the vic's muscle cream.

MONROE: We found it.

DNP was in the shampoo.

TAYLOR: Heat from the shower would generate steam,

opening up the pores, allowing for maximum absorption.

But all the women used this shampoo.

Means one thing.

I can think of better things to give you

other than my arm.

Just give me your arm, Polly.

Sure you don't want to swab me?

( clears throat) I need a blood sample.

You really think that we're all poisoned?

I'll let you know when I do.

( beeps)

( beeps)

Handwriting sample from the brother is no match.

He's off the hook.

What do you have?

Fibers pulled from the rug

came back to a variety of sources: alpaca,

cashmere, satin, angora.

All things associated with a woman.

The fibers you pulled from the body...

from a loofah.

Also associated with a woman. Well, I know someone

who might disagree with you.

You're not gonna give me that

politically correct, metrosexual argument,

"Why does it have to be a woman?" Oh, me?

No. It wasn't my DNA on the rug.

It was his.

Edward Jones.

( siren wails)

Maybe I've made some mistakes in my life.

Don't sell yourself short, Eddie.

You're not just an amateur lowlife, you're a real pro.

I'm trying to make amends.

One of the 12 steps.

Oh. Here we go with the program.

JONES: Haven't you ever felt

like you needed to make up for something in your life?

All right, Eddie, let's take a couple steps back

and start by telling the truth.

Your DNA was found on this rug.

JONES: Hold on, man.

I just saw somebody carrying the thing.

Hey.

You need a hand?

That looks heavy.

No, thanks, buddy.

And you didn't get a good look at the person carrying the rug?

The rug was covering his face.

Hmm.

He-he was wearing one of those jackets.

The-the...

Herringbone.

Yeah, herringbone.

Here are the galleys for tomorrow.

And you promised you would read my manuscript.

And he came out over there.

That door right there.

( rock music playing)

♪ Let's talk... ♪

Coldplay, nice.

Yeah, it's called "Talk,"

something my girlfriend is really good at.

( music stops) I'll call her back.

So let's walk it.

We'll take it floor to floor.

Ah.

Or we can go right to the source.

Griffin Holden's editor.

I think she's got some amending to do.

No, I think my place would be better.

Yeah.

All right.

Yes, I'll meet you there.

Okay. Bye-bye.

Hey, I talked to our coach.

He's a letch, but...

But he's not a killer.

What do you have?

DNP was in the shampoo all the girls on the team used.

We screened them, found that every starter

had it in her system.

Somebody trying to kill the whole starting team?

It's one way to get more playing time.

How many people do we have on the bench?

Just one.

You really think that we're all poisoned?

The rest of the team was.

Now I want to know why Birdy wasn't.

BIRDY: I'm the rookie.

It's my job to do stuff for the starting team.

Like what?

Well, once I brought them doughnuts.

Doughnuts?

What, do you want them to look like, linemen?

It's also your job to stock the showers.

Look, I can't explain how the DNP got in there.

Can you explain why you're the only one on the team

who doesn't have it in her system?

MAN ( over walkie-talkie): Birdy, come in. Over.

I didn't play enough to use the muscle cream.

And you didn't shower with the rest of the team, because...

They're perfect.

Oh.

BIRDY: Look, I know it doesn't

look good, but I swear I didn't do it.

I stare at cameras all day, and at night

I'm just too tired to go out.

I just joined the team 'cause I wanted to see

what it was like to hang out with the cool girls for once.

Birdy, what the hell are you doing? Over.

Can I go?

Birdy, I need you to respond promptly to a situation,

west side of the building...

What do you think?

I think you can take the girl out of high school,

but you can't take the scars of high school out of the girl.

How does Birdy benefit?

You mean, by trying to kill the whole team?

That's assuming Rose's murder was intentional.

Which it wasn't. I mean, she had

no way of knowing Rose would be

struggling at the bottom of the pile.

DNP in its pure state.

Yet the sample we found in the muscle cream

and shampoo also contained DNP's degradation product:

aminonitrophenol.

ANP.

All right, so we're looking at a degraded sample.

Question is...

how degraded?

Given that we know the ratio

of DNP to ANP in the samples,

calculating the rate of decomposition...

tells us that the source of DNP is roughly

25 years old.

About the same time that Stan Vonner wrestled in college.

And if there's one thing that wrestlers

are always trying to do, it's lose weight.

Just like the Minx.

STAN: All right, next. Who's next?

Use this... that's how you do it...

( hip-hop playing)

♪ Everybody get random... ♪

That's how you do it.

♪ ♪

MAN: Mr. Vonner, I understand it's an inconvenience.

The investigators need to take another look.

If you'll just step outside, if you'd please.

I need to get a little more information.

No trace of DNP.

We got a dust void over here.

Direct sunlight.

That explains the DNP degradation.

In theory.

We still haven't found what we came here for.

He mixed the DNP in the shampoo.

He had to use something.

Mac?

I found our mixer.

A woman can never be too rich or too thin.

Wallis Simpson, Duchess of Windsor.

Right.

If I'm not mistaken, that same woman

said that she wanted to be head of her own advertising agency.

Just like your husband used to be.

Well, Stan is a born salesman.

Hmm.

Then why didn't you think he was capable

of selling the Roller Derby?

Who told you that?

You did.

When we found traces of DNP and shampoo

on Stan's office floor.

See, that's what happens when you stir things together.

You leave trace behind.

You wanted this team to be so successful

that you were willing to dose the girls with DNP.

Do you know how much work this takes?

Yeah.

Neither did the girls.

They go out after practice, eating and drinking.

You mean having fun?

This was a business.

Mm.

And I may not have been able to talk Stan

out of giving everything up for his stupid vision,

but I sure as hell was going to make that vision come true.

So you killed

this innocent woman because you were afraid

she wasn't gonna make enough money for you.

If the girls had been a little tougher,

I never would've had to give them DNP in the first place.

So it was her fault?

I'm sure the judge will understand,

especially if she's a woman.

MESSER: This is a warrant to search the premises.

For a murder weapon.

I'd like to call my husband.

Sure, just make sure you tell him that we found

Griffin Holden's semen on your carpet.

Along with an unidentified female pubic hair.

Is that the backing of a rug?

You gave Griffin Holden the royal house tour, didn't you?

We had an affair.

I think you had more than that.

We have an eyewitness that saw a man...

wearing a herringbone jacket carrying a rug

out of your apartment building.

That's what assistants are for, right?

That's not what happened.

MESSER: Okay, why don't you tell me how it went down?

I'll start the story.

You had a lovers' quarrel.

I can finish it for you, too.

I was the one who filed the missing persons report.

MESSER: Because you couldn't find the final chapter of his book,

the one you knew you could sell.

The irony... which is a literary term, by the way...

Is that it was written all over his dead body.

Yeah.

Fibers pulled from the rug

come back to a variety of sources:

alpaca, cashmere, satin, angora.

( camera clicks)

( grunting)

The evidence is all here.

Something's bothering you... What is it?

That.

Handwriting is consistent

with the Griffin Holden manuscript.

Exactly.

What's the vic doing in the closet?

MESSER: Maybe he was looking through this hole.

But what's he looking at?

You think we're in the right place?

I think we're just using the wrong light.

( rock music playing)

( beeps)

♪ You can take a picture of something you see ♪

♪ Or write a song nobody had sung ♪

♪ Or do... something that's never been done ♪

♪ Nothing's really making any sense at all ♪

♪ Let's talk... let's talk ♪

♪ Let's talk... let's talk... ♪

That look familiar?

It should.

It's from your closet.

Seems your wife's

got a thing for herringbone.

Among other interests.

You're going to write out a confession?

No, go ahead.

I know you're good at that kind of thing.

'Cause that's your handwriting

all over Griffin Holden's body.

All over the walls of your apartment.

I know this because it matches

the reference sample from your date book.

Hypergraphia's really something, isn't it?

Funny thing is, you're good.

Read-out-loud good.

Like your wife did with you in bed.

"Her mouth tasted of my sister."

Oh, it's genius.

That's got to be rough,

listening to her read your book out loud...

The one you spent so many nights

working on...

when she really thinks it was written

by the guy that she's having an affair with.

The guy she stashed in your closet

on the rare occasion you got home early.

Every time he slept with her was one less time

I had to endure the torture.

How'd you figure it out?

She stuffed his clothes under the bed.

One night, she didn't stuff them far enough.

Wow.

You know, it's a shame that she didn't let you be a writer

when you wanted, instead of insisting

that you go to law school to make all that money for her.

I bet that must have made you

really, really mad.

Like what you've written? Hmm?

( yelling)

That's good work, Simon.

A little repetitive...

but I'm sure the title will help.

( paper rustling)

Motive: Case Closed.