All language subtitles for Law Order SVU - 3x06 - Redemption.PDTV.drngr.en

Detective Stabler, you stated
under oath that you tested everyone

who had any personal contact
with Leslie Bello.

- Is that correct?
- Yes.

Did you test Mr. Hernandez,
her teacher?

No.

No?

Did you test her bus driver,
Mr. Campbell?

No.

Well, did you test the plumber
who fixed the bathroom drain

when Leslie was home
sick from school?

No.

So, in fact,

everyone who could've been
alone with Leslie was not tested.

Leslie did not identify
the plumber as her rapist.

And 8-year-olds,
they never lie.

Objection.

Withdrawn.

No further questions.

Redirect, Your Honor.

Detective Stabler, whom did
Leslie Bello identify as her rapist?

Her grandfather, Frederick Bello.

Thank you.

Was it scary?

Piece of cake.
All you gotta do is tell the truth.

Will you come with me?

Well, you know, I can't,

but I'll wait right here
until you finish.

Leslie Bello?

Is he in there?

Yeah, but he can't hurt
you anymore.

Just look at the person
who's talking to you

and answer their questions, okay?

Morning, Elliot.

Hey, how'd it go?

They let him walk.

You're kidding me.

Grandfather rapes his granddaughter,
no big deal,

even though he was the only one
in the house with gonorrhea.

Who the hell do they think
gave it to her?

Juries screw up.

Whole system's screwed up.

It's a load of crap.

It's a rape-homicide.

Victim's Jennifer Walton, 25.

The body was discovered
by her friend this morning.

The landlady let her in.

Any signs of forced entry?

No, but take a look.

- Did some damage.
- That's only the beginning.

How did it end?

Found her tucked into bed,

hands bound behind her back
with pantyhose,

face pummeled,
throat slit and raped.

Any fluids?

Too much blood to tell,
but there is perineal bruising.

We'll test the sheets for semen.

Look at this.

A romantic psycho.

And I thought my day
couldn't get any worse.

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Law & Order SVU
3x06 Redemption

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ORIGINAL AIR DATE ON NBC: 2001/11/02

How do you spell that?

D-U-M-A-S

How well did you know Jennifer?

We're both dog lovers.

We'd exchange stories
sometimes at the dog run.

Did she ever mention a boyfriend?

Last month she said
she was going away

for a weekend with
someone named David.

She asked me to take care
of her little puppy, Max.

I bet he wants his breakfast.

Did you ever meet this David?

Well, not formally,

but I saw him sometimes
standing outside her door right there.

What's he look like?

Tall, graying hair.

He brought her flowers,
so I figured it was him.

What kind of flowers?

Begonias and daisies, roses.

He stop by last night?

I think they were fighting.

About what?

He was yelling so loud.

Something about she was trying
to ruin his life.

I should've checked up on her.

What store?

Wheaton's Department Store.

We planned to meet for drinks.

- When?
- Around 9:00.

8:30 she called my cell,

said a friend stopped by from work
and she'd be late.

She mention a name?

No, but I heard a man's voice
in the background.

What'd it sound like?

Did he have an accent?
Did he sound angry?

- I don't know.
- What about Jennifer?

Was she upset, nervous?

I'm not sure.

Is there anything
you're sure about?

We only talked for a moment.

Elliot.

We'll be in touch.

Looks like she was entertaining.

One glass with lipstick.
Our perp a teetotaler?

Neat freak.

Found the other glass in the kitchen on
the drying rack along with a carving knife,

both washed totally clean.

- So much for evidence.
- Well, we've got blood.

Probably landed the first blow here.

Then he dragged her
from the couch

into the bedroom.

Surprised he didn't
shampoo the rug.

Victim's clothes folded nice and neat.

Buttons are all gone.

After he ripped them from her body.

Bag them all.

There's no sign of a struggle here.

The blow must've stunned her,
maybe even knocked her out.

So, he lays her on the bed,
and he ties her up.

He beats her and he rapes her.

I'd say you're looking for a lefty.

He drew the blade
across her throat,

slicing the left carotid,
sending the spray against the wall.

Kitchen knife looks
good for the weapon.

When he's finished with her,

heads for the bathroom.

Hey. / Hey.

Found traces of blood in the sink
and also around the shower drain.

Okay.

So, he showers.
He gets dressed.

He washes the wine glass
and the knife,

strolls out the front door,

takes his dirty towels with him.

You got it all figured out.

At least I'm trying.

Check the drain traps.

Hear that?
Get the tub and the sink.

You're thinking crime of passion?

Really did a number on her.
Hell of a lot of rage.

But he wasn't out of control.

Still had the presence of mind
to clean up after himself.

Maybe that's because the violence
is actually soothing to him.

You see, the initial outburst triggers
a flood of serotonin to his brain,

which calms him
while he acts out his anger.

The more he maims,
the better he feels.

Exactly, and then once
his rage dissipates,

he's gentle, he's loving.
He tucks her into bed.

He folds her clothes,
puts a flower on her pillow.

So, what are we looking for?

Well, he wooed her
before he killed her.

He's intelligent, articulate,

maybe even charming.

Any leads on the boyfriend?

Elliot and I are heading to Wheaton's
to follow up on her visitor from work.

Munch, Fin, stick with forensics.

As meticulous as this guy was,

let's hope he left something
behind in all that carnage.

Multiple facial
and mandibular fractures.

Knocked out four front teeth,
two embedded in the soft palate.

Any idea what he beat her with?

His fists,
by the bruise patterns.

He could have cut himself
on a broken tooth.

I'll canvas the ERs for hand injuries.

Anything else?

Traces of spermicide,
most likely from a condom,

but no semen,
and something odd.

Two circular incisions on her chest
where the dermis was excised.

- What's his game?
- I don't know,

but the hell this woman went through,

death was a blessing.

You gotta find whoever did this.

We're looking for someone
who might be able to help.

A guy by the name of David.

You mean David Stedman?

He work here?

He's the manager
in Women's Shoes.

Were he and Jenny involved?

He's a married man.

Not that it ever stopped him.

Stopped him from what?

Chasing women.

He's shameless.

Even after Tammy filed
that harassment suit.

Who's Tammy?

She worked in Cosmetics.

She told him she had a boyfriend,
but he wouldn't back off.

She finally had to transfer
to the Brooklyn store.

Is that when David
turned his attentions to Jenny?

Yeah.

He started coming around on breaks,

asking her to lunch.

I warned her,

but she insisted
they were just friends.

But you didn't believe that?

It's impossible for David
to be "just friends" with a woman.

Is he working today?

Up the escalator and on your right.

Look what this shoe does
for the line of your leg.

- Very sexy.
- I don't know.

They're awfully expensive.

But you're worth it.

- David Stedman?
- Be right with you.

We'd like to talk to you now.

- I'm with a customer.
- She'll understand.

I think you better talk to them.

What happened to your hand?

- I broke a knuckle.
- How?

Banged it against a door.

She really must have pissed you off.

- Who?
- Jennifer Walton.

Neighbor saw you go into the apartment,
heard you two arguing.

You get off on beating up women?

Make you feel good?

I never touched her.

Well, we saw the hole in the door.

Is that what this is about?

'Cause I'll pay for
the damned door, okay?

What set you off there, shoe boy?

She was gonna file
a complaint with my boss.

She said I was harassing her.

That's a bad habit of yours,
harassing the ladies, isn't it?

I only asked her to dinner.

You murdered her.

What?

She's dead?

- No more dancing.
- Elliot.

You tried to get into her pants,
and she wouldn't go for it,

- so you smacked her.
- No.

No? Then, tell me
what happened, huh? / Elliot.

Huh? Just tell me what happened.

She laughed at you,
'cause you couldn't get it up?

- No! / Elliot, knock it off.
- She made fun of your manhood,

and then you decided
to teach her a lesson,

so you pounded it into her,
and then you raped her

and you sliced her throat.

- No, I punched her door.
- You raped her.

- You sliced her throat.
- She threw me out, I swear.

What time?

7:00. / No, witness puts
you there at 8:30.

No.

No. I was at the hospital by 8:00.

You don't believe me,

call the ER at Mercy General.

What are you doing?

- You itching for a lawsuit?
- Just cutting through the crap.

He's calling his lawyer.

Well, God bless the lawyers.

Elliot, hey, it's my ass, too.

Don't worry about it.
I'll make sure it's covered.

David Stedman, signed in 7:47 p.m.,
discharged 12:52 a.m.

- What took so long?
- It's a busy night.

And he would've gotten in sooner
if he hadn't kept hitting on me.

I saw his wedding ring.

Every time he made a move,
I dropped him to the bottom of the list.

Great.

Thank you.

So, we start over.

Face pummeled, 5-inch lac
to the throat. / Benson.

How deep?

Carotid partially severed.
BP thready. 70 palp.

Ran four units of saline.

Take her to 3.

- We're on it.
- What?

That was Munch calling
from the crime scene.

I think we just met
victim number two.

Celia Mitchum, second victim,

25, teacher's aide
at Thornton Elementary.

Landlord found her
tucked into bed,

hands tied, face beaten,
throat cut.

After which the perp took a shower,

did the dishes and
left a white rose on her pillow.

Just like the other one.

Have you seen this MO before?

Not around here.
We're checking with VICAP.

He's got his act down.

He's too organized
to be a first-timer.

And he knows what he likes,
blonde, blue eyes, petite,

both worked with children.

- Mother fixation?
- I'd say more like a romantic ideal.

He shared a bottle of wine
with Jennifer.

He lit a candle.
What about Celia?

Having coffee,
munching on some chocolates.

- Don't forget the roses.
- White roses.

The symbol of innocence and purity.

Unfortunately, no woman
fulfills his fantasy.

So, his frustration just keeps escalating
until he can't contain himself.

What else?

He tailors his approach.

Wine for Jennifer,
chocolates for Celia.

This means that he studied them.
He possibly knew them.

He's white, educated,
probably middle-management.

Why didn't you pick up
on this before?

'Cause the pattern didn't emerge
until the second victim.

How long's he been doing it?

Long enough to perfect
a pretty sophisticated MO.

Five, maybe 10 years.

You'll have to go a hell of
a lot farther back than that.

Elliot.

John. What do you need?

A few minutes with your boss.

- Detective Hawkins?
- Captain Cragen.

Come on in. Elliot, join us.

Who the hell is that?

Wyatt Earp.

Shut the door.

You two know each other?

I took his class at the Academy.

Always had him
figured for Homicide.

- I guess he had other ideas.
- What's this about?

Detective Hawkins has some information
he thinks bears on your serial killer.

Okay.

You remember
the SoHo Strangler?

Roger Berry, early '80s.

Beat and raped his victims,
and then he strangled them.

You put him away.

He's out.

Paroled six months ago.

Well, our guy doesn't squeeze
their throats. He cuts them.

- Tucks them into bed?
- Yeah.

Leaves a white rose
on their pillow?

- Okay, maybe we got a copycat.
- I wouldn't count on it.

We never released
that little detail about the rose

or the fact that he tied his victims'
wrists with a Navy slipknot.

- Berry was a biter.
- Still is.

Only now he cuts the bite
marks off their chests,

so you can't match them
to his dental records.

Roger's had a few years
to sweat the details.

Okay, well, thanks a lot.
We'll check it out.

You can ride with me.

Brass called this morning.

Detective Hawkins
has a lot of experience with Berry.

He's been temporarily
reassigned here.

Oh, so, now I need a babysitter?

It's no reflection on you.

- This isn't right, Captain.
- It's how it is.

Yeah.

His name's Roger Berry.

I miss one damn parole hearing,

and the morons let him
walk on good behavior.

I see you've met everybody.

Hawk's a real take-charge
kind of guy.

What makes you think it's Berry?

Fits his signature.

I read up on the first victim.
What've you got on the second?

Scene wiped clean,

except for a contact lens
on the bathroom floor.

Victim's med records
says she's 20l20.

Roger's got lousy eyesight.

Where exactly do we
find this Roger?

His PO's got him working
at a flower shop on 32nd.

- They sell white roses?
- Check it out.

Benson. Yeah.

We'll take Roger's apartment.

Okay. That was the lab with forensics.

So, go.

Elliot and I can take
care of ourselves, can't we?

Coffee cups, chocolates,
roses, silverware.

Wasn't able to get anything.

Same nothing as the first crime scene.

He did use the same
Navy slipknot on both victims.

- What about the contact lens?
- Contact lens.

Whoever lost it is lucky
he didn't walk into any walls.

We calibrated the prescription
at 20l150.

Any DNA on it?

No, but we found hair samples
in the drain traps from both apartments.

They didn't belong to either victim,
but they matched each other.

The killer.

Good news is the barb
was still attached to one of them.

If there's enough DNA,

we can run it against the sample
they took from Roger Berry

when he was paroled.

Now all we have to do is find him.

See you.

Your partner always so friendly?

Well, she just doesn't like you.

Wail till she gets to know me.

Here we go.

Hey, Roger, it's your old buddy, Hawk.
Open up.

Roger. Probably out
walking his dog.

You got a warrant?

Don't need one.
PO's prerogative.

Well, I don't see a parole officer,

unless that drunk we stepped
over has got a badge.

He'll be here.

You sure this is Roger's apartment?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, well, our shrink said
our guy's middle-management.

- Oh, he did, did he?
- Oh, he did,

and he also said that
he's meticulous.

Meticulous?

Check the bed.
Hospital corners.

"Happy birthday. Love, Mom."
We got a pair of running shoes.

You think she knew
we were coming?

Well, well, lookie here.

Guess he didn't have time
to put them in his scrapbook.

Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.

You're late.

Hey, cross-town traffic's a bitch.

Detective Stabler,
Eddie Tobias, Roger's PO.

How you doing?

Where's our boy?

You were supposed
to be keeping track of him.

He wasn't at work today.
Home was the next best bet.

When he's in trouble,
he usually runs to Mama.

She still in that shotgun
house out in Queens?

Couldn't pry her out with a crowbar.

The neighbors tried to when they
found out what her little boy did.

Thanks, Eddie.

Close the door on your way out.

You.

That's right, Mrs. Berry.
It's me.

I got nothing to say.

Your boy's at it again.

He raped and killed
two more women.

You're trespassing.

Where is he?

I'm not gonna let you railroad him
like you did before.

Roger confessed.

You tricked him.

He didn't know what he was doing.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

You stole 18 years of his life.

Ma'am, he surrenders himself,
he gets a fair shake.

I give you my word.

You're all liars!

I find out you're hiding him again,

I'll run you in for accessory
after the fact.

You don't scare me.

It's gonna be a lot easier
if you give him up now.

Roger keeps running,
he's liable to get hurt.

Go to hell!

You trying to kill her?

No. She's tougher
than she looks.

Last time, she hid Roger
in her basement for three weeks,

meanwhile two more women
wound up dead.

Sure as hell
ain't gonna help us now.

You think she would?

Sometimes finesse
goes a long way.

Finesse is for fairies.

Look, I don't care how many strings
you pulled to get here,

but you're working my case.

My case.

So, from now on,
we do it my way, you got that?

You hungry?

What?

Roger used to eat at this restaurant
every day about the same time.

Thought we'd grab a bite.

- You hear me?
- Yeah.

But if I don't get something
in my gut before long,

I'm gonna pass out.

You drive.

Oh, yeah. Roger.

He started coming in
a few months back.

Orders the same dinner.
Cheeseburger and a root beer.

Takes it to his favorite table.

Yeah, he's got
a standing reservation?

Well, you know,
he's a little off.

It's gotta be that table or nothing.

He'll wait an hour
for people to leave.

So, I put a little sign up,
save him the trouble.

How are the cheeseburgers,
still the same?

Big and greasy.

I'll take two. One for me
and one for my partner.

- My treat.
- To drink?

Double bourbon. Neat.

Beer. A bottle of domestic.

We'll have our burgers,
nail our perp

and be home for the 11:00 news.

You're awfully cocky for someone
who's been striking out all day.

Well, Roger's a creature of habit.
He'll be here.

Whatever you say.

You wanna talk about that bug up
your ass or just let it fester?

I just don't like grandstanders.

I thought you were gonna
say grandfathers.

That was a tough one to lose.

That jury sent him home
to rape that kid all over again.

- You make your case?
- I had him nailed.

Then you did your job.

Well, that's not good
enough anymore.

Well, it has to be,

because that's all there is.

I told that little girl everything
was gonna be okay.

And I told the parents of
Roger's victims he'd rot in prison.

Well, at least you put him
away for 18.

Yeah, well, at least you gave
that little girl a few days' peace.

We never win this war, Elliot.

Just so tired of losing.

Then what're you gonna do?

Huh? Quit?

I don't know.

All that's required for evil to triumph
is for good men to do nothing.

Here's to a few good men.

Stabler.

Yeah, John.

Really?

Well, we'll let you know
if he shows up here.

Wasn't a total bust
at the flower shop.

The owner told Munch that
Roger made deliveries

to Jennifer Walton's apartment building
a week before she was murdered.

That's the way he accessed
his victims last time around.

He also said that Roger got fired
for threatening a customer.

Our boy's late.

Sometimes he gets caught up
watching the boats.

- Yeah, where?
- Pier 41.

Damn.

Hey, who's gonna pay for this?

Roger?

It's me, Hawk.

Turn around real slow,
and we'll handle this like men, all right?

Stay away from me.

Can't do that, Roger.

I won't go back there.

That's not an option, Roger.

No. / Roger.

I won't.

No.

Come on, Roger.

- No, I won't go back!
- Get up.

No!

Damn it, Roger.

Hold still.

Your collar.

Roger Berry,

you're under arrest for the murders of
Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.

No. / You have the right
to remain silent.

If you give up that right,
anything you say can...

We almost lost you, there, Roger.

I don't want to talk to you.

I don't really want to
talk to you, either,

but we've got some loose ends
we gotta tie up.

Where were you night before last?

It was my birthday.
I was with my mother.

All night?

After we ate cake, I went home.

- What time?
- Lights out by 10:00.

You stop by Celia Mitchum's
on the way home?

Who's that?

That's that nice lady you brought
flowers to day before yesterday.

I bring flowers to lots of nice ladies.

Yeah, but this one
you killed, Roger.

No.

What about Jennifer Walton?

I didn't kill anybody.

Then why'd you cut their
stories out of the paper?

See here?

My mom gave me those.
She said, "Be careful."

You was gonna try
to put me back in jail.

Roger, you're not going back
if you didn't do it.

You lie just like he lied.

Here we go.

You said if I signed that paper,
I could go home.

We don't send murderers home,
we send them to prison.

Now, admit it, Roger,
you took those girls flowers.

No. / You pretended to be
their friend...

No. No. / and then you raped them
and killed them.

No!

I want my mom.

Your mama can't help you now, boy.

- Hawk.
- You're going back to jail,

and this time I'm gonna see to it
they strap you down

- and put a needle in your arm.
- No.

I saved your sorry ass
so you can die my way.

- My way!
- Hawk.

Hawk.

Stay here.

I want my mom.

Cut him loose?

The DNA's not back.
We've got nothing to hold him on.

It's Roger's signature.

It's the killer's signature.

Meaning what?

The guy's borderline retarded.
You think he's capable?

Roger's smarter
than you think he is.

You give me some time
alone with him,

and I'll have him singing
a different tune by lunch.

Nobody's talking to Roger alone.

His mother reached out to Legal Aid.
He's lawyered up.

And with no DNA,
we've got no grounds for arrest.

Well, while you all sit around
with your thumb up your ass,

I'll take Roger's mug out to recanvas.

You remember, police work.

It's hard to make
a case for a copycat

when the signature wasn't
released to the press.

There is another explanation.

Roger Berry's not
the SoHo Strangler.

Hit the archives,

take a fresh look at
the old strangler files.

If this strangler's been
out there all this time,

he must have left a scent.

Hawk would never admit that
he's wrong,

especially if he hears it from a woman.

- He's old-school.
- He's a drunk.

I talked to a cop at Manhattan South.

They said that nobody
will ride with him.

Well, maybe they don't have the guts.

Well, maybe they just
want to stay alive.

Maybe they should shut up
and do their...

I'm just telling you to watch your back.

Sorry, Detectives, the files already
been checked out.

Under what name?

Detective John Hawkins,
Manhattan South Homicide.

Son of a bitch,
he's covering his ass.

Wait a minute.

I'll handle it.

John, it's Elliot.
You in there?

Just spending some quality
time with my old friend, the SoHo Strangler.

You and Roger?

Found a neighbor that alibied him.

Puts Roger at home
when Jenny and Celia were killed.

I don't need any DNA
to tell me the rest.

We'll get the guy.

You know, when I first caught this case,

I had my shield only for one year.

Wanted to show everybody
what a kick-ass cop I was.

Six murders later,
I'm still drawing blanks.

So, as usual,
the media's up our ass,

talking about taking me off.

Then we catch a break.

A neighbor sees a flower delivery man
leaving Larissa Cutler's apartment.

I go down to the flower shop,
search his truck,

strike the mother lode.

Women's underwear, porno,

the same kind of rope
used to tie their hands.

You made your case.

Not without a confession.

I wanted that so bad.

I put Roger in the box

and I grilled him
over and over and over,

till I convinced myself he'd been
in those apartments.

I fed him every detail of the case.

And then I told him that
if he signed that confession,

he'd go home to his mother.

Poor dumb son of a bitch
believed me.

You have a chance to make this right.

I took 18 years
from an innocent man.

God knows how many women
died because of it.

You can't make something
like that right.

Okay, so, what are
you gonna do? Quit?

You wanna drink yourself to death?
I can't stop you.

But what are you gonna tell
the parents of those girls?

You made a promise to them.

If you're the man that I think you are,
you'll keep it.

Hawk.

Hawk!

- You don't have to shout.
- I think I found something.

Believe me, I've been over that stuff
till my eyes bled out.

If there was anything to find,
I'd have found it.

- Arthur Blessard?
- Huh?

Do you remember a guy
named Arthur Blessard?

Yeah. He's one of the neighbors
that ID'd Roger.

Ann Chilsen's date book three weeks
before she was murdered.

She had an appointment
with her tax man. "AB."

I'll be damned.

Come on.

It's a long shot.

Everything's a long shot
till you connect the last dot.

What are we looking for?

These are my notes
on the strangler case.

I used to sketch faces to keep
the interviews straight in my head.

Son of a bitch.

- Who's this?
- Artie Blessard.

Guy was blind as a bat.

Like the guy who left his contact
on Celia Mitchum's bathroom floor.

The last dot.

We traced the MO from the 1983
strangulations to the current murders.

VICAP came back with 12 more hits
from five different cities.

Arthur Blessard's employment history

puts him in the vicinity
of seven of those murders.

They show the evolution
of Arthur's MO over time.

We're still contacting local PDs,

but all we can come up with is
Chicago is where he began

to mutilate his victims
to hide the bite marks.

And he started slitting throats in Atlanta.

In every case,
the signature matches.

So, where is this Arthur Blessard now?

Well, he quit his job at some storefront
tax outfit in Hartford last month.

Hawk is out checking with the Feds,

see if they have any info
on subsequent employment.

- Already done.
- Where?

26 Federal Plaza.

The bastard's working for the IRS.

His desk is right over here
in the corner.

Where the hell is he?

Probably out in the field.

- He's one of our busiest auditors.
- Oh, really?

- Excuse me.
- What?

Hey.

Hey, what are you doing?
Don't you need a search warrant?

Got it covered.

Here we go.

Jennifer Walton.

Celia Mitchum.

He's using their tax return
as a dating service.

Employment, marital status,
home address.

He's even got their photos
from the DMV.

Got an appointment book.

Beverly Parsons.
341l2 West 23rd Street.

5:00 p.m.

It's 4:45.

This is it.

Police! Don't move.

- Oh, my God!
- Hi, Artie. Remember me?

- Spread your legs.
- What is this?

Arthur Blessard,
you're under arrest for the murders
of Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.

- Murder?
- Did he hurt you?

No, I cut myself
when I dropped the vase.

Artie was helping me clean it up.

Yeah, Artie's a real neat guy.

And a hopeless romantic.

Since when is it a crime
to bring a lady flowers?

You got a date with me now, boy.

Artie first contacted me a week ago

about irregularities on my tax return.

I'd just moved here from lthaca

and couldn't afford
to fly in my accountant,

but he said that was okay.

He thought the discrepancies
could be cleared up without much trouble.

And then, so, you met with him?

At his office.
He seemed really nice.

He'd found more problems
with my return,

and when he saw
how nervous that made me,

he offered to take me to lunch.

I felt sorry for her.

You know, audits can be nerve-racking.

But when you're in a new city
and no family or friends,

it can be downright terrifying.

You give that kind of personal attention
to all your audits?

We're not all soulless bureaucrats,
Detective.

He called me at the hospital,

I'm a pedes nurse,

and said he'd accidentally
double-booked.

He apologized and insisted
on making it up to me

by taking me to dinner.

Dinner was her idea.

Well, aren't there...

rules against fraternizing?

Her audit was winding down,

and she seemed like
a nice enough girl.

So, I said, "What the heck?"

That's when things got weird.

He started asking me a lot of questions
about my personal life,

and then tonight he showed up
at my apartment with flowers.

I shouldn't have let him in,

but I thought I could let him down gently
without screwing up my taxes.

So, why'd you come back, Artie?
Temptation too great?

I don't know what
you're talking about.

Come on.

Roger Berry.

I put him away for what you did.

His parole gave you carte blanche
to murder again.

You knew he'd be
the prime suspect.

This time we've got
DNA evidence, Artie.

You know what that means, Artie?

It means we've got you.

This is crazy.

You know what's crazy, Artie?

Sitting in your 8x10 cell
eating your last meal.

Or walking down the hallways
to that little room with the gurney.

Are you trying to make me confess?

You want to save your ass,
don't you, Artie?

I'm not going to lie.

We can tie you to both victims.

- I did their taxes.
- In their bedrooms?

That would be a breach of ethics.

Keep it up, Artie.

Keep it up, and I swear to God,
I'll put your head through that wall.

I'll be sure and tell that
to my lawyer.

I didn't say anything.

We searched Artie's apartment

and found a lens case
with a single contact.

Also found a receipt
from Jean's Flowers.

The same flower shop
where Roger works.

It's obvious he was setting Roger up.

Any luck with Artie?

He lawyered up.
Can we hold him?

Unfortunately, we have nothing
to hold him on.

What about the flowers
and the contact?

Circumstantial.

Well, what about the DNA
from the hair?

He will argue he was an invited guest.

That's a stretch, isn't it?

He had legitimate business
with both victims,

just as he did with Beverly.

Circumstantial or not,
we've made cases on less.

This time we have to contend
with history.

Roger Berry, SoHo Strangler.

Roger didn't do it.

His convictions are a matter
of public record,

which provides a very compelling
argument for reasonable doubt.

He had access, opportunity,

and according to his arrest file,
the same signature.

So, Artie just walks?

If we take this to trial
and he's acquitted,

he gets a lifetime pass.

So, unless we can tie him
more definitively to these murders,

the answer is yes.

Wait a minute.

What about the old murders?

Artie wasn't as experienced back then
or nearly as neat.

You thinking he might have
left a deposit?

It's 18 years ago, but those evidence
boxes are still at Pearson Place.

We went over everything
with a fine-tooth comb.

The rope, lingerie,
fingerprint slides, all useless.

What about the bite marks?

Only subcutaneous bruising
of petechiae.

Nothing we could
match to a suspect.

There's gotta be something.

We took a closer look
at this bed sheet.

It belongs to the first victim,
Marcia Johnston.

- The bookstore clerk.
- Correct.

According to the inventory,

a mixture of blood and semen
was typed from this spot.

We were able to extract
enough DNA to run a panel.

The only problem is,
is the sample is mixed.

Meaning what?

Meaning we need DNA
from both the suspect and the victim

to make an accurate analysis.

But the victim's been dead
and buried for 18 years.

Unbury her.

No. I won't allow it.

Let Marcia rest in peace.

I know how difficult this must be
for you, Mrs. Johnston, but...

No, you don't.

There isn't a day goes by
I don't think about my daughter.

There was a time
I couldn't even do that,

because I couldn't bear the thought
about the horrible way she died.

I finally got to the point
where I could look at her picture

without breaking into tears.

Mrs. Johnston,

I put the wrong man away for 18 years
for your daughter's murder.

Now I've gotta carry that burden
along with the deaths

of all the other daughters since then.

I promise to put
Marcia's killer away.

I can't do it without your help.

How many others?

Seven that we know of.

If I don't get it right this time,

there's a man out there
that's gonna keep on killing.

What exactly will you
have to do to her?

We need to extract a sample of DNA
for analysis from one of her bones.

And there's no other way?

Unfortunately,
Marcia's our last hope.

My last hope.

Blessard's gonna be
awfully surprised to see us.

I can't wait to see
that son of a bitch's face.

Get the back.

Arthur Blessard, open up.
Police.

One, two, three.

Hawk?

Hawk!

Hawk!

Hawk.

Hawk, don't do this.

Don't do what, partner?

You know this isn't right.

We both know the system sucks.

This way, it's just natural selection.

No! Please!

Hawk, you do this,
you're no better than he is.

He sure as hell
won't kill anybody else.

This is no way to end it.

Come on.

He's an evil man, Elliot.

And all it takes for evil to triumph is
for good men to do nothing.

Please! No!

You gonna make an old drunk
do all the work? Give me a hand.

Your collar.

Arthur Blessard, you're under arrest
for the murders of Marcia Johnston,

Jennifer Walton and Celia Mitchum.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say can
and will be used...

�ڸ����� - NSC �ڸ���
(http://club.nate.com/tsm)