All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.Toronto.Criminal.Intent.S02E08.720p.HDTV.x264

In Toronto's
war on crime,

the worst offenders
are pursued by the detectives

of the specialized
criminal investigations unit.

These are their stories.

I don't want it!
I'm not taking it!

Don't make me beg,
it's unseemly.

You're unseemly.
Casey, why are you doing this?

We've been together 20 years,
you know why.

Can you at least tell me
where you're going?

Jill, I'll be fine, I promise.

You're insane.
You know that, right?

Love you too.

Young girl like you
shouldn't need an e-bike.

You should stretch those
pretty legs.

Faster I go,
the more money you make.

Hm. Suit yourself.

Your boyfriend's been taking
less shifts lately. Why?

Ex-boyfriend. So, no clue.

You got trust issues.
Maybe that's why he dumped you.

You're 50 short.

And I dumped him.

What is this thing
tonight again?

A fundraiser for the Ontario
Youth Development.

You're speaking at 8:45.
- What time does it start?

Six. But you can skip
the cocktails.

We need to talk.

Lucia, you want
to give us a minute?

Okay.

Let's talk.

Go back to your country!

First victim, Casey Lewis, 41.

Founder of Wealth Craft,
helping kids save enough money

to buy avocado toast.

Casey was the prince
of Toronto's tech sector.

Pretty beat up car
for a prince.

What about the second victim?

Wrong place, wrong time
delivery driver.

Still working on the ID.

Who found the bodies?

The bodies were found
this morning,

by a dad teaching his kid
how to drive.

Well, big empty parking lot.
I don't see any cameras.

Lots of room for mistakes.

Graff, maybe he could
give you a lesson.

I hear Bateman does
all the driving.

Well, imagine that.
My female partner.

Better driver than me.
- Ah, careful, Manek.

Before you know it,
I'm gonna want to try to vote.

You know I liked you both more
before you were partners?

Perfect shot straight through
the back windshield.

Well, the shooter's either...

really lucky, or really good.

Professional. No casings.

Just saying.

But I'm sure you have
another theory.

No theories, just facts.

Is there a phone?
Wallet?

Shooter must have taken them.
We've confirmed his name

with vehicle registration.

But the shooter didn't
take the computer.

Or the snacks.

This looks like one
of my daughter's sleepovers.

So the victim was lying
in the back here,

and judging by the chip dust
on the chair,

he pulled himself up.

He didn't hear anything.

I know these headphones,
they're great.

They're noise cancelling.

Maybe headlights?
Flashlight, which,

no pro would use.

As for the absence
of casings,

if the killer used a revolver,

they don't eject them.

Just facts.

Okay, so, what was our prince
doing in a parking lot?

Let me see my husband!

Casey called it a code-a-thon.

Find a random spot. Park.

Code for 24 hours straight,
completely off the grid.

But he was on the grid.
He had his computer.

His dumb computer.

It means it's never been
connected to the internet.

What about his phone?

He gave it to me yesterday
morning.

Phone, wallet.

He didn't want any
distractions.

Why?

We met at McGill.

One night in first year,
he left residence

and he just started driving.

Found a parking lot,
pulled an all-nighter.

By six AM, he'd come up
with Wealth Craft.

So every year, he did it again.

Said it was better to set out
without a destination.

No fixed ideas.

Sounds like
the sentimental type.

Has he kept this car
since college?

Yeah. He barely drove it.

Ms. Lewis, did Casey tell
anyone where he was going?

He didn't even know
where he was going.

Thank you. We'll be in touch.

No cell phone. No Wi-Fi.

He had a car that he never used.

No, no one knew where
Casey Lewis was going,

and the only way to find out
would be to follow him

from his house.

But he'd already been sitting
here for 16 hours, parked.

So why wait to kill him
until a potential witness

is driving by?

'Cause maybe our witness
isn't just a witness.

No ID.

We tried to pull something
off the phone,

but it looks like
the SIM card's fried.

Look at this.

So...

a delivery driver is shot

and slumps down
on his left handlebar,

causing the bike to turn.

He was coming from
the other direction.

He was moving when he was shot.

It wasn't the first bullet.

That's a lot of misses
for someone

who hit that kill shot
on Casey.

There's another one here.

Okay, so...

Delivery driver pulls over
to check his phone,

and our shooter, he takes aim
at the delivery driver here,

not there, here.

He misses, and our
delivery driver takes off.

Casey didn't hear
the first shot,

but the headlights caused him
to sit up in the back seat.

The shooter didn't even
know he was there.

Perfect shot to kill Casey
was a stray bullet.

He was the one in the wrong
place at the wrong time.

Delivery driver was the target.

We thought, a delivery driver

was in the wrong place
at the wrong time,

why not a famous CEO?

It's not the labels
that I'm hung up on.

Casey, he disrupted
an entire industry.

He had enemies.
- He also had no GPS in his car,

no phone,
and Mark checked his laptop.

His wife was telling the truth.
- How do we know

the two victims weren't
meeting each other?

Well, if I were trying
to kill two people

who were meeting,
I'd wait for the meeting.

No, it's our thinking
that the delivery driver

pulled over into the parking lot
to check his phone,

maybe take an order.
And our killer,

following in a car behind,
saw an opportunity, took it.

Yeah.
We called the delivery company.

They've got 30,000 drivers
in the GTA.

So without a name
they can't help us,

and so far, all we've got
is a broken phone,

an empty bag, no wallet,
no keys, no ID.

I don't like dead John Does,

they give me a crick in my neck.
Just find me a name!

Our mystery man
remains a mystery.

No surgical pins
with serial numbers

and nothing I can pull
from his dental records.

A couple of untreated cavities,

but no normal person likes
going to the dentist.

Well, I do.

He has two broken ribs

from approximately
three days ago,

and, this.

M-M-G-A-S.

Maybe it's a password?

On his arm? Mmgas...

Or an acronym...?

Mm, gas.

License plate?

Never seen
the kid.

No? Sure he didn't maybe

hit your truck while
it was parked, speed off?

Would've noticed.
She's my pride and joy.

Hm. Not your child?

You know, I used to think

these stickers
were a bit ridiculous,

until my partner
explained them to me.

What was it again?
- It's not so that people

don't hit you, it's so that
you've got an excuse

when you hit them.
What's your kid's name?

Arthur.

Oh, that's a good strong name.

Must be a strong kid, too,
not to need a car seat.

How old's little Arthur?

Uh, four. I mean, five.

'Cause this sticker
looks brand new,

almost like it was just put on.

Front bumper, that's unusual.

You don't think he's hiding
something under there, do you?

Like maybe a scratch
from hitting a bicycle?

Oh, I sure hope not,
'cause that would be obstruction

of justice, and that's
a pretty serious charge.

The-the kid swerved in front
of me on his stupid bike,

all right?
But I didn't kill him.

These cyclists think
they own the damn road.

So, this was
from three days ago.

Oof, Leo lied about how
the accident happened,

but he was telling the truth
about his alibi.

CCTV places him
inside the Wheatsheaf Tavern

at the time of the murder.
- Well, at least we solved

the mystery of the broken ribs.
- Can you, uh, zoom in?

Hawaiian pizza.
Critically underrated.

I'm more interested
in the box.

Badiali. That's right around
the corner from the accident.

They'd have a record
of the delivery.

And the driver's name.

It's going to be hard to find,
we had at least

30 orders during that window.
- What about for Hawaiian pizza?

That narrows it. Not too many
people get Hawaiian.

Hm. Critically underrated.

The driver's name
was Mike Schaub.

Um, I think you've got
the wrong delivery,

our driver's Asian, early 20s.

Well, this is the only order
for Hawaiian

within a three-hour window.

This is your order, guaranteed.

The guy must've stolen
my login info.

And I guess he's dead,
and I have an alibi,

so that's that.

Is it, though?

Because we got in touch
with the delivery company,

and they gave us access
to your profile,

and it says here that you
deliver food 20 hours a day,

seven days a week. -
I'm a hard worker.

You're a very hard worker.

In fact, it says you're
on a delivery right now?

Thai food.
- Hard to trust the alibi

of a man who can be
in two places at once.

Yeah, you know
what confuses me?

Is he using a food delivery
app to deliver drugs?

Or maybe he's canvassing
the houses.

Drops off the sushi,
and checks on the alarm system.

You know what's good about
having a suspect with priors?

It's easy to get a warrant.

Maybe we should just go down
to Mr. Schaub's

and check it out--
- His name is Brian Chen.

- Okay.
- And what I'm doing

isn't illegal!
I mean, it's illegal, but...

it's not bad.

You're gonna have to clarify.

I let international students

use my account to deliver food.

Immigrants. Their student visas

only let them work
24 hours a week.

But you live here.
You know how expensive it is.

So they get my legal ID,

and I get a 20 percent cut.

Oh, 20 percent.
Now that's a lot.

Was Brian upset?
Is that why you killed him?

I didn't kill him!
I liked Brian.

It's very inconvenient
for me that he's dead.

There's four other riders
that share my account.

All right?
They're all poor as dirt.

Hey, some of these shifts
are more lucrative than others.

So there've been threats.
Fist fights.

Someone cut the brakes
on one of the girls' bikes.

And what are the names
of these other riders?

- I don't know.
- Oh, come on, Santa.

Who are your helpers?

I mean, I know
their first names.

Tariq, Mei, um,

Ravi, and uh... William.

Brian hired them,
and he scheduled them.

He kept track of it all
in a green notebook.

Four riders, all with motive,
all with access to the same app

which would tell them exactly
where Brian was

on the night he was murdered.

Well, Schaub was good
on the name.

We found our victim.

Now, let's find our killer.

Brian Chen is a ghost.

Can't find anything
about him online,

and his address listed
on his immigration file

is now a shoe store.
- I just delivered the news

to Brian's older brother
in Beijing.

Well, the translator did.

And the brother thought
that I was

one of Brian's teachers
calling to give him an update

on how he was doing in school.

Anyway, all of this to say
that he doesn't have

Brian's address either.

Brian was here
on a student visa.

So, we may not have his address,

but we do have his school.

"Thinkbridge, bridging
knowledge across the world."

They'd have
his most recent address.

Schaub said that Brian
kept information on the other

four delivery drivers
in a green notebook?

We find that address,
we find the notebook.

Well, this is nicer than
where I went to school.

Really? Where'd you go?

Oh.
- Oh, excuse me, sir.

Ope. You, you dropped this.

Oh, Hindi? Are you from India?

Yes. India.

Such a beautiful language,
I hope to learn it one day.

Did you take the photograph?

Sorry, I don't understand.

The photograph.

Card.

From family.

Detectives?

- Ms. Mistri.
- Yes.

I didn't know Brian Chen
personally,

but he was one of my students.

So you never met
Brian I person?

I'm afraid not.
I try to meet most of the kids,

but running four schools,
I do miss out

on the personal connection.

Well, at least you get
the house.

Looks like Brian hadn't been
to class in a year.

Is that, is that unusual?

Unfortunately,
it's not uncommon.

Coming to the city
can be a culture shock.

These are kids from small towns
and villages

from all over the world.

Sometimes they get swept up

into things they shouldn't.

We do everything we can, but...

some of them don't
make it through.

All over the world, indeed.

Looks like the Tower of Babel.

Ms. Mistri, do you happen
to still have Brian's

mailing address on file?

Mmm... not that I can see.

After Brian stopped
attending classes,

we expelled him,
erased all his information

from our system.
Standard procedure.

- When was Brian expelled?
- About eight months ago.

Great, considering
it was in this fiscal year,

his address will be
on your tax records.

We can pull it from there.

Good idea.
I'll have my assistant

pull it up right now.
- Uh, you mind

if I, I keep this?
Left my glasses in the car.

Only if you spread the word!

- May I help you? Sir?
- Huh?

Ah.

I'd like to buy some flowers
for my employer.

Asha Mistri. At Thinkbridge.

- Ah, purple dahlias?
- Yes.

Of course, I know Asha.
But we just sent her

a beautiful bouquet
this morning?

I know, I know,
I knocked the vase over.

I just wanted to replace it
before I get fired.

Then you're in luck.

These will get you a raise.

Actually, the thing is,

she's working
from home tomorrow.

You wouldn't happen to have
the address on file, would you?

Ah, I'm sorry.
We can't disclose

our client's information.
But I'd be happy

to have them delivered.
- I'd prefer

to deliver it myself.
Please.

I've been to the house,
the one with the stone arch,

the beautiful one, ah?
Above the wooden door.

It's just that
I forgot the address.

All right.
But if you do get a raise,

I want a cut.

Messy bed. Clean desk.
Can't make up his mind.

Brian's brother also said
he had a laptop, but...

Schaub said the notebook
was green.

Maybe someone's been here.

Yeah, maybe they
missed something.

Did you know the Statue
of Liberty was originally brown?

Mm. Tell me more.

Over time due to oxidization,

it turned green.

And leather reacts the same way,

it develops a patina

when exposed to heat
or certain metals.

Huh. Bring me your tired,
your poor, your huddled masses,

yearning to breathe free.

Four riders,
all colour coded to show

their deliveries
throughout the city.

We can see who was the fastest,

which ones used bike lanes,
even who would stop

delivering in the rain.

Which we don't care about.

Three of our four riders
pinged in across the city

at the time of Brian's murder,

nowhere near the crime scene.

Well, their phones did.
I mean, not necessarily

their bodies.
- Oh, bodies too.

I was able to find
CCTV footage to confirm.

Except for one.

Blue's phone was in a private
residence all night.

One with no cameras.

Easy to sneak away
without anyone noticing.

Blue was also in Brian's
apartment several times

in the weeks leading up
to his death.

So, what do we know
about blue? We got an address?

Better. I can give you
her exact location.

I had no idea.

I, I saw in the news
about that CEO,

but I didn't know about Brian.

- And you two were close?
- We dated for almost a year.

Off and on. We broke up
for good a few weeks ago.

How come?

He was cheating on me.
I was at his place,

went through his phone.
Saw a bunch of missed calls

from a random number.

Wrote it down,
called soon as I left.

This girl named Jennifer
picked up.

Brian gave me some stupid story,
so I, I ended things.

I haven't seen him since.

Could you tell us
a little bit about him?

When I first met Brian,

he'd just got here from Beijing.

He was sweet, you know.
Idealistic. Had dreams.

Wanted to be an engineer.

But he changed.

He got tough and hard,
and sad.

He was never around,
always busy, busy.

So we grew apart.

I almost didn't blame him
for cheating.

And last night?

I was at my apartment
with my roommates.

We were online, trying to sell
a bunch of clothes we thrifted.

This number from that woman,
Jennifer.

Do you happen to still have it?
- Yeah.

I'm glad you called.

I hadn't even heard about Brian,
and I work at a newspaper.

He was a primary source
for a story I was working on.

- About the delivery ring?
- No. This.

Thinkbridge? Bridging
knowledge across the world.

We were just
at their head office.

It's immaculate.
- That's the facade.

Where Asha Mistri
keeps her army.

This is the actual school.

Well, it's nothing
like the brochure.

Thinkbridge targets kids
from across the globe

and sells them a dream.
Stellar education,

high-paying job
after they graduate,

and most importantly,
a Canadian visa.

Families sell their farms,
they mortgage their entire lives

just to get their kids here.

But when they arrive,
there's no campus,

no classrooms. A class online

for 15 minutes a day,
if they're lucky,

and a worthless piece of paper
after they graduate.

- A diploma mill.
- Calling Thinkbridge

a diploma mill is a compliment.

This is fraud
on a massive scale,

how do they keep it quiet?

These kids spend everything
they have just to get here.

They can't afford lawyers.
And if any of them threaten

to speak up,
Thinkbridge expels them.

They lose their student visa,
and are shipped back home

with nothing.
- How did you meet Brian Chen?

Brian tracked me down
about eight months ago.

He wanted to tell me his story.

He didn't care about
the repercussions,

he just wanted
to take Thinkbridge down.

Then why hasn't this been
in the paper yet?

I tried, but my editor said
I needed a bigger hook.

Multiple sources.
- And no other students

were willing
to go on the record.

No. So, the story got shelved.

But then two weeks ago,

yet another Thinkbridge student
killed himself.

I guess that was
a big enough hook.

My editor finally
gave me the green light.

Front page of the Saturday Star.

But when I called Brian
to tell him the news,

he said everything
he told me before was a lie.

He hung up, blocked my number.

That was the last time
I talked to him.

You think someone
silenced him.

I don't know.
But I'm pretty damn sure

Asha Mistri wouldn't have wanted
him to talk to the press.

Well, we spoke to Asha,
she said she's never met

Brian Chen.
- Brian said he complained

to her in person many times.

I'm convinced his testimony
could've sent

that smiling scam artist
to jail.

You think somebody killed
Brian Chen to keep him quiet?

Well, Brian had a lot to say.
He moved to Canada

just over a year ago
after his parents died.

He took his inheritance
and spent the whole thing

on tuition at Thinkbridge.

A fresh start that cost him
22,000 dollars a year.

What? My kid goes to U of T,

tuition is a fraction of that.

Yeah, well,
international students

pay four times
what domestic students do.

But Thinkbridge has
a referral program.

You bridge a student,
and you get a 500-dollar reward.

Oh my god, it's like a virus.

And a profitable one,
with four so-called campuses,

3,000 students each,
at 22,000 dollars per student,

Thinkbridge is grossing
264,000,000 dollars a year.

Thinkbridge is run
by Asha Mistri.

She was born in a small village
in India, grew up poor.

Moved to Canada when she was 16.

And now she makes a fortune
exploiting other vulnerable

people trying to get
to this country.

And she just bought a mansion
on the Bridle Path.

Easy to do when you're pulling
in that kind of coin.

Why isn't this a bigger story?
- Everyone knows about

Robin Hood
because he stole from the rich.

Nobody cares about a story where
somebody steals from the poor.

Especially when the poor
are immigrants

that people blame
for stealing our jobs

or causing a housing shortage.
- And Brian was about

to expose it all,
a cover story

in the Toronto Star would not
have been good for business.

Okay, yes, but the reporter
said that Brian took it all back

before he died.
I have no doubt

that Asha pressured Brian
into being quiet,

but if it worked,
then why would she kill him?

Human nature.

See, I have a half-brother.
We haven't spoken in four years.

And every morning,
I wake up, promise myself

today's the day
I'm gonna reach out,

and make things right.

People don't always
keep their word.

Okay. Let's keep ours.

Hm.

Three months ago,
one of your students

wrote a blog post about
her experience at Thinkbridge.

One week later,
she was expelled for plagiarism.

Now, it's hard to imagine
plagiarizing

when there are no tests,
no essays,

but nonetheless,
her student visa was revoked

and she was promptly
sent back to Vietnam.

And if you did that
over a blog,

well, I can only imagine
how far you'd go

to stop a front page article

from appearing
in the Saturday Star.

And don't insult
our intelligence

by claiming that you don't know
Brian Chen.

We know he complained to you
in person multiple times.

And we also have footage
of Brian entering your building

on the morning he was murdered.

On the night Brian Chen
was murdered,

I was at a charity fundraiser.

I made a speech.
300 people clapped.

Feel free to confirm
with any one of them.

Your company makes a quarter
of a billion dollars every year.

I have no doubt you could
afford to hire the grim reaper

to assassinate him
if you wanted to.

But I didn't.
Not that I would,

but, why would I need to?

The reason Brian Chen was here
the other day

was because he worked for me.

He was here
because he wanted a raise,

and I gave it to him.
He deserved it.

- Oh, please.
- About eight months ago,

Brian Chen walked into my office

and he told me that he was
the source for a news article

that was going to take me down.

He could barely look at me
in the eye

as he told me. He was upset.

Shaking. He was desperate.

But I know first-hand
that desperation

can sometimes breed success.
And so, I gave Brian a choice.

I could either sue him
and that journalist

for a false
and libellous article

that no one would care about

the next day. Or he could come
and work for me.

We've been through
your employment records,

Brian was not on file.

She was paying him
under the table.

You slowed down
a murder investigation

to avoid a fraud charge.

You'd need a good lawyer
to prove it.

Well, we have one.
And he's excited to meet you.

The fact remains,

I didn't kill Brian Chen.

Why would I?

He was my best recruiter.

Brian joined the machine
he wanted to take down?

Well, it's as she said,
desperation breeds success.

90 percent of our graduates
go on to get high-paying jobs,

which, of course,
leads to permanent residency.

See, it might be that
we're being distracted

by the big fish in this case.

What if Brian was killed
by somebody he recruited,

someone whose life he ruined?

We'd need a warrant to get
the list of all the students

that Brian recruited.
And if Asha's telling the truth,

he ruined a lot of lives.
That's going to be a long list.

Well, maybe we can speed
things up.

Let's hope that the assistant
falls far from the tree.

I see that your background
is in healthcare.

But we-- Hello?

I know you're cops.

Asha had me flag
your meeting in bold.

It's okay, Lucia, we're not
here to accuse you of anything.

Maybe you should.
Brian died,

and nobody in the office
seems to care.

Can you think of anyone
who was threatening Brian?

Was there any,
an email or a text?

Anything that he mentioned
to you?

People here get threats
all the time.

I mean,
it's not out of the ordinary.

Any incident that stands out?

There was this one guy
a couple of weeks ago.

A young student came
into the office yelling,

in tears.

He blamed Brian
for ruining his life.

He tried to attack Brian,

but security grabbed him
before he could do anything.

Brian laughed it off,
but, I don't know.

There was something
about this kid.

He seemed desperate.

Do you remember his name?

No, I'm sorry.

You said security escorted
him out.

They'd have to file a report,
they'd need a name.

Any chance you'd have
access to that?

I don't, but Asha does,
and I know her password.

Hi, can I help you?

Yes, I'm Detective Bateman,
this is Detective Graff.

Do you live here?
- Yes, yeah.

Well, this place isn't
selling for one, let alone...

five.
- Uh, six.

- Comfy.
- We're looking for

Sanjay Gupta. Does he live here?

He does. Uh, well, he did.

- Do you know where he moved to?
- Um...

Sanjay killed himself
two weeks ago.

Walked up six flights
to the roof of our building

and jumped off.
I, uh, saw the whole thing.

What are you doing here?

Like I said to you yesterday,

I have no plans on shutting down
any of our schools.

I have nothing more
to say to you.

Mommy? I'm hungry.

Can I have a snack?
- Of course.

Sure, baby.

- How long did Sanjay live here?
- I don't know.

I didn't know him too well.

People here kind of come and go.

And did he leave
anything else here,

a passport, a wallet, um,
was there a suicide note?

I think his dad took it all.

- His dad?
- Yeah. He came from India

a few days ago. He wanted
to bring Sanjay's ashes home,

so I gave him everything.

Including, well, at first,
I thought it was just

a photograph of a bridge
with some writing on the back.

I think it was Hindi.
He left it on his pillow,

and when his dad read it,
he cried.

So, I guess
it was a suicide note?

I asked him about it,
what the picture was,

and he said it was the last
place his son was happy.

This photo, was it a photo
of the bridge

over the Humber River?

Yeah. How did you know that?

The man you bumped into
at Thinkbridge.

Sanjay's father.

He killed Brian
to avenge his son's death.

Dinesh Gupta travelled
from India

after the death of his son,
Sanjay.

We have his flight records
and an agreement

for a rental car.
- It's the same vehicle

that was parked outside
Thinkbridge HQ

the morning of the murder.
We think Dinesh followed Brian

home from work.
- We also have this

curtesy of Asha's assistant.

Apparently, they keep
the best recruitment videos

for training purposes.

You're gonna love it here.

In Canada, the streets
are made of gold.

I'm inside, so you can't see,

but out there? It's perfect.

That's Dinesh.
- He's going to be

the smartest kid in class.

He's going to be a big success.

He's gonna leave
his father in his dust.

Dinesh knew exactly
who recruited his son.

We have dozens of emails
from Brian to Sanjay

convincing him to enroll
at Thinkbridge.

And if it wasn't for Brian,
Sanjay never would have

come to Canada,
and he'd still be alive.

Well, you've got motive,
but...

hundreds of kids
whose lives were ruined by Brian

had motive.
You don't have a murder weapon

and you don't have Dinesh
at the crime scene.

We have him stalking
the victim

the morning of the murder,
Theo.

No, you have his car
parked outside of a building.

Not enough to send a potentially
innocent man to jail,

especially an Indian citizen
with a shaky extradition treaty.

Yeah, and why kill Brian
but not Asha?

I mean, I get that
Brian is more direct,

but Asha is the ring leader.

Yeah, well we think Asha
might be Dinesh's next target.

We saw Dinesh leaving
Asha's office

carrying Sanjay's suicide note.

Likely, he confronted her,
and Asha being Asha,

didn't listen.

Well, we need to get a car
to Asha's house.

We've already sent two,
and one to her office.

Wait. The first unit
just got to Asha's house.

Dinesh's car
is parked out front.

He showed up
at my office yesterday.

Said I had to shut down
Thinkbridge or else.

He's from the same village
as my parents.

Said I was a disgrace.

And then he came
to your house?

Yeah. Said pretty much
the same thing.

I said I was calling
the cops, and he left.

Without his car?

- Can I see your guns?
- Oh!

How about you see my badge?

Boring.

Was your daughter
at home when Dinesh was here?

Yes, she ran to the door.
He left right after.

Come on, sweetheart,
let's go see Tita.

He came here to kill her
and would have,

if the daughter'd
not been at home.

A killer with a conscience.

Ms. Mistri,

is there anything else
Dinesh said to you?

He said I had a nice house.
That's about it.

Asha please, anything at all.

He said it was my fault
that his son

would never return home.

Dinesh left his car here
because he knew

after this, we'd be able
to track him.

He could be anywhere by now.

Dinesh told Asha
that it was her fault

that his son would never
return home.

What if he meant that literally?
- What do you mean?

Well, Sanjay's roommate said
that Dinesh came here to pick up

his son's ashes.
I went to Varanasi once.

It's a beautiful city
full of pilgrims

and cremation ceremonies
on the Ganges.

The Hindu people believe
that having their ashes

rest in the Ganges
will cleanse the soul

of the deceased and protect them
as they entered the afterlife.

But it doesn't have
to be the Ganges, does it?

I mean, I thought that the ashes
could be scattered

on any body of water?
- Exactly.

Dinesh only had
a one-way ticket.

Thinkbridge drained him
of every dollar he had.

He can't get his son home.
I think I know where he is.

Be careful. That's a man
with a gun who just

scattered his son's ashes.

Good point.

All right.

Guys, clear the bridge.

Fast as you can, please.

Fast as you can.
- Let's go. Guys, go.

Ma'am. Ma'am.
Carry on.

Let's speed up, please.

Beautiful spot.

What's the significance?

I'm a detective, you see,
so these kind of mysteries,

they bother me.

You know, I think that this
was the first place

that your son visited
after he arrived in Canada.

He looked out over the water
and saw opportunity.

A future full of promise.

He was so excited that later,
he took a photo of it.

Mark the occasion.

But I also think
it was the last time

that Sanjay was truly happy.

Don't you say his name.

Hold your positions.

I don't have kids.

I've got a half-brother,
but we don't talk.

And my dad, he's, uh,
he's complicated.

But I'm guessing
that you weren't like

that with Sanjay, were you?
- Don't say his name! -

I can see you're hurting,
I get it.

I mean, grief is the most
unwelcome guest,

it shows up
on your doorstep unannounced

and turns your life upside down.

It affects people in all
sorts of different ways.

It's also the price we pay
for love, Dinesh.

You see, my mother,
when she died,

it pulled our family apart.
But when your wife died,

the tragedy brought
you and your son

closer together.

Sanjay was all you had left.

We talked to Asha today.

She told us that
her parents lived

in the same village as you.

But the schools there,
they don't teach English.

So I'm guessing that
you taught him, didn't you?

'Cause you knew he was smart,
just like you, Dinesh.

And that's why you sacrificed
everything to give him

the opportunities
that you never had.

Yeah, he was a bright kid.

Would've been top
of his class, no doubt.

So when you got an email
from Thinkbridge

saying that your son
was eligible to attend

a top Canadian school, well,

you had every right
to be excited.

Sanjay was gonna make
something of himself.

But you were scammed,
along with thousands

of other vulnerable families,
and their kids.

Including Brian Chen.

And what you don't know
is that before

Brian was a recruiter,

he was a student at Thinkbridge.

- I don't know who that is.
- Aw, sure you do.

I saw all the videos.
You remember how excited

you were when Brian sold you
and your son

on a dream that didn't exist.

He's going to be the smartest

kid in class.
He's going to be a big success.

He's gonna leave his father
in his dust.

Now I know that you think
Brian deserved to die,

but what about Casey Lewis?

This had nothing
to do with him,

he was just a decent guy
who's leaving behind a widow.

Did you know that you killed him
that night,

or did you read it in the news?
- Stop it!

Because the man
who couldn't kill Asha Mistri

because her daughter was home
can't feel good

about killing an innocent man.
- Enough.

Hey, hey,
let's just talk this out.

- I said enough!
- No, no!

- Don't move!
- Let's just talk this through.

Slowly, slowly
put your gun on the ground.

No more innocent people
have to die, Dinesh.

This isn't for anybody
innocent.

On the ground!

They took him.

They took him from me!

I told him to do it.

I told him, I told him
to come here!

I told him to do it!

Ah! I have nothing left!

Yes, you do! Listen to me!
Listen to me.

When we arrived
at the crime scene,

we went right past
Brian's dead body,

straight to Casey.
And I'm ashamed to say it,

but at first we believed
that Brian

was just collateral damage,
just a kid

caught in somebody else's war
at the wrong time

and at the wrong place.

But if you pull that trigger,

that's the story the press
is gonna run with.

That you're the suicidal killer
of Tech CEO Casey Lewis.

And they won't even mention
your son's name.

'Cause nobody cares
about Sanjay.

Dinesh.

Dinesh?

If you confess, the news will
have to run a different story.

A story that will force people
to pay attention

to what's actually happening.

A story that will bring
about change.

You can make sure
that no parent

goes through what
you're feeling right now,

that no child goes through
what Sanjay did.

You can testify against
Asha Mistri

and Thinkbridge,
and you can take them down.

We will help you,
you have our word.

You can still
make this right, Dinesh.

Please put the gun down.

Just put it down.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
I'm so sorry.

We'll follow behind you
in your car and we'll take

your statement at headquarters.

We'll have some time
before he's processed.

Enough time you could
call your brother.

Yeah.

Maybe tomorrow.

difuze