Original subtitles

( phone rings)

( ringing)

( ringing)

Detective Taylor.

MAN: Detective, I need to speak to someone about a murder.

I have a confession to make.

I'm listening.

We buried the body...

north end zone... Giants Stadium.

We snatched the guy from the Bronx a long time ago.

I can't get his face out of my mind!

I can still hear the gunshot!

Now, just calm down. Where are you?

Please get him out of there!

I can't take those screams in my head anymore!

( gunshot)

( indistinct radio transmission)

Blood spatter on the back of the hands.

Void on the palm.

Ran the I.D. in the vic's wallet.

His name was Salvador Zabo.

He was a construction worker from Pelham Bay.

TAYLOR: 12-inch shotgun, 12-gauge buckshot.

Vic mentioned the kid may

have been kidnapped from the Bronx and taken to Jersey.

If there's any truth to that,

we're gonna be working with Jersey CSIs.

Process the scene.

Where you going?

East Rutherford.

Now, let me get this straight.

Some wacko calls you up

telling tales about a man buried in this stadium,

you drag us out here in the middle of the night.

We may not be the high

and mighty NYPD out here

in little old East Rutherford, Detective Taylor,

but it's going to take a little bit more than a prank call

for us to dig up this end zone.

Normally, I'd agree with you,

but this prank caller took his own life with a shotgun.

His final words were details about a burial

in this stadium... I take that very seriously. Now, look.

If there's nothing down there, I'll be the first

to apologize for wasting your time.

If there is, I'll be the first

to ask for your cooperation.

I'd also extend

the same courtesy to any one of you

the next time you take the Lincoln Tunnel into my city.

( beeping)

Wait a minute.

There's something down there.

( beeping)

I thought Jimmy Hoffa being buried in Giants Stadium

was an urban legend.

There's only one way to find out

if an urban legend is true or not.

Dig up the truth.

♪ Out here in the fields ♪

♪ I fought 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. ♪

( rock song playing)

♪ I felt the earth on Monday ♪

♪ It moved beneath my feet ♪

♪ In the form of a morning paper ♪

♪ Laid out for me to see ♪

♪ Saw his face in a corner picture ♪

♪ I recognized the name ♪

♪ Could not stop staring at the ♪

♪ Face I'd never see again ♪

♪ It's a shame to awake in a world of pain ♪

♪ What does it mean when a war has taken over? ♪

♪ It's the same, every day in a hell I made... ♪

Hey, Mac.

Bones.

Looks like a fibula. Feet are pointing

southeast, head facing northwest.

Give me the camera.

♪ There's the worldwide suicide ♪

♪ The whole world, world over ♪

♪ It's a worldwide suicide ♪

♪ The whole world, world over ♪

♪ It's a worldwide suicide... ♪

♪ Yeah, yeah, hey, yeah. ♪

( phone ringing)

Hey, what happened?

What's going on?

Hold on. It's my pager.

Oh, it's a 125-25.

It's a homicide.

I gotta go.

Now?

I am so sorry.

I'm so sorry.

I'm sorry.

It's your night off.

I'm on secondary call tonight.

Do you have to do this?

I'm sorry, Frankie.

If I didn't have to go, I wouldn't. Okay?

Duty calls.

Hold that thought, okay?

I'll call you later.

Hey, Danny. Hey.

What have we got?

Hope you don't bank

at First Federation

'cause the CEO, Jim Mooney, is R.I.P.

Looks like several stab wounds,

but we found no weapon.

Who's the room registered to?

According to the manager on duty, the guest always

registers his name

as "Napoleon Bonaparte."

Figures. So do we have any surveillance cams

or descriptions?

Signatures?

Brought the manager up here to see if the banker

was the guy who registered; he's not.

Well, our banker wasn't alone.

Got an unopend bottle of champagne,

chocolate-covered strawberries,

and my personal favorite...

La Perla underwear.

These babies sell for $350.

I get my BVDs in a three-pack for ten bucks.

Soon as the M.E.s

remove the body, I'll bag the sheets.

MESSER: All right, let's try this.

You seeing something here?

Looks like the perp wrote this with his finger.

He used Vaseline.

You thinking what I'm thinking?

Crime of passion?

That's what I'm thinking.

Concentric fracture to the back of the head.

Execution.

SID: Checked the third molar inside your skeleton's mouth.

The medial clavicle hasn't quite fused yet.

I'm guessing he's a young adult.

17, 18 years old.

I'm going to have Adam Ross run a scan on your skeleton,

see if he can't put a face to that skull.

Let's do it.

I want to know what the connection is

between the kid in the hole and our suicide vic.

Anything more on him?

Salvador Zabo... the only thing I found of interest

is on his back... give me a hand.

Someone took a laser to this guy.

His tattoo has been removed.

Can you lift it?

I can lift the Titanic if you give me proper tools.

What kind of tools do you need?

I need a microwave.

( beeping)

( sizzling)

( sizzling)

"Tanglewood."

Does that mean anything to you?

The Tanglewood Boys.

Salvador Zabo... you know him?

Zabo?

Yeah. Yeah.

We grew up in the same neighborhood.

He was a Tanglewood Boy.

He was the last time I heard.

My brother Louie knew him better than I did, though.

Why do you think his tattoo was lasered off?

Maybe he wanted out; maybe got tossed out. Why?

He called my office, confessed to a murder.

Get out of here. Where?

Jersey.

Cold case. Long time ago.

Look,

the Tangelwood Boys are mixed up in this,

I don't want you anywhere near this case.

You had contact with these guys a long time ago.

I think it's best to keep you out of it.

No argument here.

Whatever you say.

( gunshot)

You got that Colt .45 to fire?

Uh, yeah, yeah. It took awhile.

The gun was pretty rusty.

I had to disassemble the weapon,

make a new gun using a rusty barrel

Got some good stria out it.

The gun we found in the grave

was the same weapon used to kill our skeleton.

The problem is,

there's no registered owner.

I'm going to have to run a history on the gun.

Now, cause of death on your banker:

multiple stabs.

The knife's hilt left several

contusions and abrasions on his torso,

sternum and ribs.

Means the weapon was inserted

with aggressive force. Mm-hmm.

We're most likely dealing with a short blade,

maybe two-and-half, three inches.

Look at his rib area.

Usually stab wounds to bone

prouduce V-shaped patterns.

These stabs are U-shaped,

suggesting the knife wasn't very sharp.

So, we're looking for a dull, short knife

that makes unique hilt marks.

Is there anything else?

I'll take those ribs to go.

( indistinct conversations)

( blipping)

TAYLOR: See here, the serial number of the gun we found in the grave

ends in 995.

And the serial number of these stolen guns end in

996, 997, 998 and 999.

Guns are often stolen

in lots with consecutive serial numbers,

right? Right.

Means the person who killed with the gun

we found in the hole might have possessed

the other stolen guns at some point. Okay.

So who got caught with the stole merch?

Let's find out.

"Sonny Sassone."

You say that name like it rings a bell.

Put it this way: we have history.

I got news for you.

You and buddies are going to Sing Sing

regardless of who you're connected to...

Mafia or no Mafia.

We'll see.

Yes, Danny Messer,

he knows all about us...

and we know all about him.

You see,

now we're both working men.

Oh! Detective Taylor,

to what do I owe the pleasure?

Sonny Sassone.

You're out.

I told you the odds of me going away: zero.

Tell me about the stolen guns.

What stolen guns?

The ones NYPD found in your car 15 years ago, in 1991.

Illegal possession of a firearm.

It got tossed. So what?

Turns out one of the guns missing from the lot

you were arrested with was used in a murder at the Meadowlands.

What murder? You mean the one

where Carolina beat up the Giants 23 to nothing

in that Wild Card game?

I know you had something to do with this.

You may walk on me once... but not twice.

I'm in your life now, Sonny. Get used to it.

I have to say, I'm not worried about this.

You should be.

( beeping) FastSCAN.

This is state of the art in facial reconstruction.

Looks expensive.

Did I sign a P.O. for this?

Yeah. Remember you said

you wanted to be on the "cutting edge" of technology?

Right, right. Well, let's see if we got our money's worth.

Fire it up.

All right.

( typing, computer beeping)

TAYLOR: Let's do it.

ADAM: John Doe.

All we need is a name.

TAYLOR: Check missing persons.

While you're at it,

send a jpeg over to New York Weekly.

Tell them to run the image on the late edition.

Ask them not to make a spectacle

out of the headline.

It's New York Weekly.

I-I'll try.

( chuckles)

Stel, I got something from the bedsheets.

What's in the bag?

Ribs. From where?

Jo Jo's Smoke Shack?

M.E.'s office. I'm on my way to Reconstruction right now.

What you got? I got bronze stains

all over the bedsheets.

I thought it was odd, so I ran it through the Mass Spec.

Came back hydrolyzed silk, caffeine, glycerin.

I'm going to need more than that. The substance contains

caffeine, reportedly to help cellulite,

and the glycerin functions as a moisturizer.

Sounds cosmetic.

Yeah.

( imitates aerosol spraying)

Air stockings.

Oh, spray-on panty hose.

BONASERA: It's an aerosol for women's legs...

Gives the illusion they're wearing panty hose.

I love women. It's all over the bedsheet,

so, whoever's wearing this stuff

was in bed with our banker, Jim Mooney.

Good. That's really good.

ADAM: Hey, guys.

I ran the mirror image through "Ask Sam."

It's a handwriting database.

Turns out we got a hit from a threatening letter

frpm a convenience store robbery.

Lucky for us, though, the message on the mirror

and the actual threatening letter,

they both share the same letter construction.

Suspect did a stint in Sing Sing.

And he, uh, got out several years ago.

What's his name?

NEWT GLICK. Newt Glick.

U.D.X. Ultimate Date X-perience.

I'm providing a service

for a very privileged, exclusive clientele.

$2,000 an hour,

and you can spend time with the finest women in the world.

Selling sex.

GLICK: But prostitution's illegal, Detective.

No, this is more of a mental experience.

We found a message written in Vaseline

at the Von Arms Hotel in midtown.

What exactly did it say, Detective Flack?

And I quote: "I caught you, bitch. Get home!"

That's right.

And we traced the handwriting back to you, Mr. Glick.

Care to explain?

I don't know what that is.

I mean, you know, I don't write

notes to my girls in Vaseline.

I just look them straight in their pretty little face

and I tell 'em what's what.

Right, Melanie?

Yes, Daddy.

FLACK: Hey, Daddy.

We matched the handwriting on the mirror

to a threatening note you wrote six years ago.

Get me a drink.

See, uh... that was the old Newt Glick.

The new Newt Glick is all about making dollars legitimately.

I do everything myself here.

I book all the appointments.

I screen the clients, I make the deals,

and then I just...

I send them out like Top Gun jets.

I don't believe you.

See, I think you were there.

I think you wrote that note to warn

one of your "bitches."

Which one, Newt?

I was not there,

and I got nothing else to say to you. Yeah?

Well, there's some bedsheets over at the Von Arms

that put a woman at the scene.

Let's light 'em up, Flack.

♪ ♪

( speaking foreign language)

( answering in foreign language)

Thank you for volunteering, ladies.

We'll be in touch.

Mr. Manning, I'd like to ask you a question

that's not in the article here.

Your son...

how long ago did he disappear?

1991.

Here's a picture from back then.

Very sorry for your loss.

Can you recognize this man?

His name is Salvador Zabo.

He's a member of the Tanglewood Boys.

No. I have never seen this person before.

Did your son have an affiliation with the Tanglewood Boys?

Tanglewood Boys? No.

Forgive me for asking, sir,

but did your son sell drugs?

Is it possible that he sold them to these kids?

My son did sell drugs.

He even paid bills for me when I was out of work.

I could never scold my boy for making a buck.

I'm just trying to understand the connection.

♪ ♪

MESSER: What is it, Montana? You beeped me 911.

You all right? Yeah.

The DNA sample from the cigarette we found

in the end zone came back

to Internal Control Sample.

What do you mean? That means

the smoker works here at the lab.

How can that be?

Have you told anybody else about this?

No. Just you.

( sighs)

MESSER: Mac, you got a second?

What is it, Danny?

Lindsay got back the DNA from the cigarette butt.

It came back to an Internal Control Sample.

The DNA on the cigarette butt is mine.

( sighs)

You know, what you say to me is testimony.

Mac...

I do not need a boss right now.

All right? I need...

I need a friend, all right?

I'm in big trouble here.

Just, uh... hear me out?

Tell me everything.

My older brother Louie is a Tanglewood Boy.

He's been running with Sonny Sassone

for God knows how long.

But like I said before, I never ran with those guys.

Except that one night.

Summer of 1991, 15 years ago, my brother Louie calls me up,

he says him and a couple of Tanglewood Boys,

they're going down to A.C. to party and gamble and whatnot.

Like an idiot, I go.

Needless to say, we never got to Atlantic City.

Ended up in a parking lot at Giants Stadium. Yo, Louie,

Sorry about the detour. I had to pull over.

I'm hearing all kinds of knocks and pings in my truck.

( muffled banging)

( gasping breaths) Buon giorno.

Stick around, Messer.

Don't turn away. You may learn something.

So the Tanglewood Boys at this time

consisted of Sonny Sassone, Salvador Zabo and your brother.

And that's it.

I was just tagging along.

( blows landing)

Let me catch you selling drugs

in my father's bars again,

I'm going to bury you in that stadium like Hoffa!

MESSER: Come on, enough already.

The kid's bleeding from his face and everywhere else, Sonny.

Leave him alone. Louie, school your brother.

Take off. Hit the road.

Get out of here. Hit the road, D.

You embarrass me in front of my boys?

Get out of here.

You're a disgrace! Get out of here!

( tires squealing)

Things between my brother and I were never the same

after that one night, Mac.

He calls me up a couple days later,

he tells me, though,

they dropped that kid off in a bad neighborhood

and went down to A.C. as planned.

He lied.

( sighs)

How could he do that to me?

He always showed off

in front of Sonny.

But my brother, Mac, he's not a murderer.

The fact is, right now, Danny, you're the murderer.

Your cigarette butt

was in that hole.

How'd it get there?

I don't know.

I swear on my mother I do not know.

Louie was always bumming cigarettes

from me back then, but I swear to God

that I never took one step into that stadium.

Never.

I believe you.

Unfortunately, the evidence

is telling us a different story.

I'm going to help you, and you're going to help me.

So, I have no choice.

You'll be placed on modified assignment.

The duty captain will relieve you.

You'll be assigned to a desk... No gun, no shield.

At some point, he's going to want to talk to us both.

You'll be assigned to the rubber gun squad.

You sit at your desk,

you keep your mouth shut until the evidence

corroborates your story.

Hey. Hey.

Is he okay?

He's as okay as he can be.

Well, I've got some good news here.

We got a winner. Melanie Stefano.

You remember her.

Slinky brunette with the getaway sticks.

The one nibbling on Glick's ear.

I'll have one of my guys scoop her up.

Better yet, you and I should handle it.

I don't buy this Ultimate Date X-perience

for a second.

Excuse us.

FLACK: NYPD. Party's over, people.

You, get your clothes on,

and stay put.

You, take a walk.

Now!

Hey, boxer shorts...

cold shower's this way.

Let's go.

You're a busy girl, Melanie.

That wasn't for money, if that's what you're implying.

Well, we have evidence that you were in bed

with a banker who was murdered at the Von Arms Hotel.

You do wear Air Stockings spray, correct?

Yeah. It makes my legs look sexy. See?

I don't like fishnets.

It gives me an itch.

Give it up, Melanie.

I like men. So why don't you just tell me

why you were in bed with a banker on your day off?

It's my day off. I can do anything I want.

That banker was just a guy I was sleeping with.

For money?

For pleasure.

Does Newt know what you do on your days off?

No. And he doesn't need to know.

Come on, Melanie,

you're making a little money on the side?

You know, day off, no Newt.

It's pure profit, right?

You know my rates, right?

You can do everything and anything you want

with me.

I don't say no.

You're on.

I'm going to jump in the shower and powder up a bit.

Get ready to play, you big stud.

BONASERA: My guess is, when you looked in the mirror,

you got the message.

And now the banker's dead,

and you and Newt were the last two to see him alive.

See, evidence shows that you two were in bed together

in more ways than one.

Said you wanted to talk?

I'm listening.

Your brother's in a lot of trouble, Louie.

I heard his side of the story.

What's yours? What went down that night?

You and Danny get into it

over Sonny slapping around that drug dealer,

Danny leaves.

Then what?

Me, Sonny and Sal, we dropped that kid off

in a gang neighborhood, we went to A.C. Why?

We found what was in the end zone, Louie.

I'm getting the feeling

that Danny only knows half the story

of what went down that night.

You want to fill me in now or go downtown?

I told you everything you need to know.

What I need to know is who shot Bobby Manning

in the back of the head

and put him in the grave.

Who pulled the trigger?

You?

Sonny Sassone?

I heard somewhere Salvador Zabo pulled the trigger.

Salvador Zabo?

What's he, a Tanglewood Boy?

Where is this Salvador Zabo now?

Enough with the head games.

Come on, Detective, you know where he's at.

City morgue. Suicide, remember?

You saving that smoke for later?

Yeah. I'm trying to quit.

I've been trying to quit for years.

What about Sonny Sassone?

If he finds out you're talking to a cop,

he might get the wrong idea.

Don't worry about Sonny.

He's gotten Danny in enough trouble.

We ain't spoken in years. I've got plans for him.

What kind of plans?

Don't worry about it.

All I care about, right now, is protecting my brother.

Adam.

Hey. Don't worry.

No live animals were hurt during this experiment.

No worries here.

So you're looking at hilt marks, right?

Yeah. I was inking the hilt of the knives.

I'm going to compare the hilt marks

from your pig to the banker.

See if I can narrow down a weapon.

Ink and link.

All right, I'll stab, you compare.

BONASERA: That's it.

Yeah.

Huh. It's an oyster-shucking knife.

Hey, Mac,

Dispatch just called.

Someone did a hospital job on Louie Messer,

Danny's brother. Beat him within an inch of his life.

EMS said he wasn't breathing at the scene. Where's Danny?

I don't know.

What do you got? What do you got?

Got 60 over palp. Airway's obstructed.

Louie, Louie!

He's my brother! He's my brother! Louie, can you hear me?

Louie, Louie, listen, who did this to you?

Everybody, get out of the way! Louie, who did this to you?

Come on, move! Don't you die on me, Louie!

Not now! Louie!

Smells like smoke in here.

Ah, it's my clothes.

Sorry.

You have a cigarette behind your ear.

Smoking experiments.

The butt on the left

was partially smoked.

The butt on the right was fully smoked, end-to-end.

The partially smoked cigarette

has tar stains on the mouth end only.

The cigarette smoked down to the butt

has tar stains on both ends.

What are you comparing it to?

Cigarette butt we found in the hole at Giant Stadium.

Tar stains are on the smoking end only.

Means it was a short smoke.

What does it matter if Danny had a quick smoke or a long one?

I don't know yet.

Just trying to understand how Danny's cigarette

got in the grave,

if he wasn't inside the stadium.

The fact is, Stella,

Danny's fate hangs in the balance

and we're out of evidence.

We're never out of evidence.

Your words, not mine.

You saving that smoke for later?

Yeah. I've been trying to quit for years.

DANNY MESSER: Louie was always bumming cigarettes from me back then.

Get out of here!

( tires squealing)

Louie.

( indistinct conversations)

Danny.

Any word?

I don't know.

Still in surgery.

You okay?

Yeah, yeah. I've had better days, to tell you the truth.

FLACK: He's a tough kid,

your brother Danny... he's gonna make it, all right?

Lindsay, you get Louie Messer's personal effects

and get them back to the lab.

Yep.

You stay here with Danny.

Make sure this doesn't escalate.

I don't want the Tanglewood Boys seeking him out.

Or him seeking them out.

You're responsible.

Yeah, we're not going anywhere, trust me.

What do you need from us?

A list of all of your clients, for starters.

Names, occupations,

contact numbers... you know?

Your little black book... I know you've got one, Mr. Glick.

You take care of all the bookings, remember?

Newt, no. No way.

She'll put us right out of business

if she has that book.

News flash, sweetheart.

You're already out of business.

The only question is,

do you want to spend

the rest of your life behind bars?

From an evidentiary standpoint,

neither one of you have a leg to stand on.

You were both in that hotel room.

You're on the mirror and you're in the bed.

In a court of law,

that looks bad.

Let me take a look at Melanie's clients,

see if we can tie anybody

to the murder weapon other than the two of you.

You can give it to me now or later,

either way, it's mine.

Huh... it's an oyster-shucking knife.

Yeah, these are fine. Fresh.

Let me get two boxes

of Blue Hill Maine and a box of the European flats.

You got it. BONASERA: Paul Sabotini?

NYPD.

You look a lot better with your clothes on.

Uh, you're the...

Yeah.

Why don't you hand over the oyster shucker.

Nice and slow, Mr. Sabotini.

Looks like blood.

My guess, it's Jim Mooney's.

What is it, Mr. Sabotini?

You want to move in on Newt Glick,

become Melanie's new pimp?

No... no, not at all. You got it all wrong.

I didn't want to be her pimp. I wanted to save her.

You know, why don't you come home with me, huh?

Let me take care of you.

In time, baby, in time. I promise.

I started getting suspicious.

She wouldn't let me come by on her days off,

and she kept rushing me out.

So one night I got an extra room key and I paid her a visit,

and I got the surprise of my life.

Who the hell are you? Who the hell are you?

Where's Melanie?

She had to run out.

Oh, you're the oyster schmuck.

The guy paying for the room.

Thanks. Saves me $600 a night.

Mel's expensive enough.

Melanie always told me not to be a "Captain Save-A-Ho."

Turns out, she was right.

But she played me for the last time.

I guess, uh...

I guess I thought I could save her.

Some people you just can't save.

You're under arrest, Mr. Sabotini.

Louie Messer's personal effects?

I think you might want to see this.

He was wearing a wire.

It was badly damaged from when they beat him.

See if you can pull any trace off of these clothes,

I'll be on this tape.

Sonny Sassone. How you doing, Louie?

LOUIE: I'm all right. How you doing?

Good to see ya. Yeah?

They found that kid in the hole, Sonny.

They think that my brother's got something to do with this.

SASSONE: What do you want me to do?

Walk in and confess to that mutt, Mac Taylor?

LOUIE: You know that my brother wasn't there.

I punked him out of there.

I knew where you were going that night

and he wasn't ready to see all of that.

SASSONE: Yeah, he bitched out.

You, me, and Sal

put Hoffa in the end zone for the touchdown, so what?

What are you going to do, arrest me for digging?

Murder two, for starters.

You know what, I still gotta say...

I'm not worried about this.

You should be. Keep listening.

SASSONE: Speaking of "bitch,"

Zabo cried and threw up all night.

I was the one who turned his light off.

( sobbing)

Sweet dreams, dead man.

No!

( gunshot)

Pure and simple. Mafia style...

You worried now?

Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up, Sonny.

Now it's my turn to have the final say.

On your feet.

( handcuffs rattling, clicking)

Sweet dreams, dead man.

What are you up to?

Came all the way down here to bring me a present?

I wanted to surprise you.

I know I came off

a little harsh the other night,

so I made you something.

You did? What is it?

See for yourself.

Okay.

Oh, my God.

Frankie, that's beautiful.

It's called "Aresanob."

The many faces represent your amazing vision of the world.

Coarse orange scales

represent your tough outer armor,

and the solid white skull is...

your pure angelic soul.

Aresonob?

It's Peruvian... it means

"soul of a woman."

Huh.

Research. Internet.

( chuckles): Oh.

I love it.

It's beautiful, Frankie. Thank you.

Thank you.

Thanks.

Louie.

Hey, it's me, Danny.

Just talked to Dad.

He's coming down here with Mommy.

Doctor says you're in a coma

and that you might not make it out of here.

Listen to me.

I heard you on the tape.

That night, you got me out of there on purpose.

I never knew that.

You couldn't have just pulled me aside

and said you were putting on a front?

You got to keep that up all these years?

I mean, you can call it tough love if you want,

but I was young, man, and that hurt me in the heart.

But I want to tell you, here and now,

that I forgive you, 'cause now I understand

why you did what you did.

And I just want to say,

thanks for that,

and I love you.

You hear me, Louie?

You, uh...

I'm gonna go get some air right now.

You just, you just stay. I'll be right back.

Hey. Hey.

How's your brother?

Lindsay told me you, uh, listened to the tape.

We did everything we could forensically, but...

in the end, it was Louie who saved you.

You okay?

They beat my brother pretty bad.

( sobbing)

They... They beat him really bad, Mac.

( sobbing)

( typing)

"Aresonob."

No such word.

"Did you mean 'aresanob'?"

Yes.

That's "Bonasera" spelled backwards.

Oh, my God.