All language subtitles for Bosch.S01E04.WEBRiP.x264-FaiLED_en

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Dang!

Hooked it.

Dude sure doesn't look much
like his head shot anymore.

That's what 20-some years
of the bottle looks like.

Must've been some hard-ass years.

Sure this isn't a waste of time?

You like driving balls.

10 bucks, hit him. Three swings.

You're on.

But you know what I'm saying.

Waits confessed.

Why you always got to look
a gift horse in the mouth?

Arthur Delacroix endured prolonged abuse,

then goes missing?

Father tells the daughter he reported it,

but doesn't.

That puts Sam Delacroix out there,

prime suspect.

Unless somebody else confesses.

We always get false confessions.

Waits is a psychopath.

How'd he know about the starfish?

I'm just saying.

Nice shot, Tiger.

I get to be Tiger 'cause I'm black?

Because you're good.

No cigar, but you're pissing him off.

You think it's so easy, you try it.

I don't golf.

Golf is a great sport.

Golf is not a great sport.

If you can smoke and drink
while you're doing it,

it's not a sport.

Well, it might relax you.

Lord knows you need it.

There's more to life than work.

Get your wallet out, Harry.

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That's what I'm talking about!

Ooh.

Now that we got his attention,
we gonna go talk to him or what?

No, we go to Palm Springs,
talk to the mother,

get some background, brace pops.

Let's go.

Aren't we forgetting something, partner?

See, don't be like that.

I hate to lose.

- Hey. Harry.
- Yo.

You, uh, you in a hurry?

Having lunch with Billets.

Edgar and I are going down to
Palm Springs to do an interview.

You guys get all the boondoggles.

- Let me talk to you.
- Yeah.

I need the room.

- Am I in trouble?
- No.

The deputy chief's son, George?

Not a bad cop, what I hear.

Yeah, well, he can stray off the
reservation from time to time.

- And...?
- And

when Officer Pierce and Irving Junior

pulled over this Waits character,

apparently Irving

deliberately punched in
the wrong plate number

because he wanted to search the van.

Guess he reversed a couple of numbers.

- An old-school move.
- I know.

Did it myself a couple
times back in the day.

But the thing is, Harry, a case like this,

you do not want a hinky
probable cause on the van search.

So, tell Pierce to keep his mouth shut.

Yeah, well, that's where the
rubber hits the fucking road,

my friend, because apparently this Pierce

is some kind of eagle scout,
wants me to file a complaint.

- Goes to paper, it fucks the case.
- Yeah.

And me.

You ever go camping,

accidentally wipe your ass with poison oak?

Okay. So, no.

But if I write Junior up,

Irving's the camper and I'm the poison oak.

Not only that, if I don't file,

then all of a sudden I've got
a failure-to-take-action gripe

coming at me from Officer Pierce.

It's fucking department politics.

Don't worry about it. I'll talk to Pierce.

You will?

Thanks, Harry. I owe you.

Nice analogy.

Kind of a hike to Palm Springs.

Why don't you just call
her, tell her her son's dead?

I want to look her in the eyes.

Edgar's gonna want to stop at the Outlets.

Got to hand it to him.

He always looks correct.

He's a clothes horse.

He's got more shoes than you do.

You holding up okay, Harry?

Ask your questions.

Arthur's mom was absent, too.

I'm curious about her.

If she hadn't abandoned the kids,

maybe the boy would
still be alive. Who knows?

Well...

just don't make the Delacroix
murder too personal, okay?

It is personal.

I'd be lying if I told you any different.

That's how I work.

You talk to your kid recently?

Supposed to talk tonight.

She calls me Harry.

It's just a phase. I
wouldn't worry about it.

- Any word from downtown?
- Belk called.

They're gonna read the verdict

- first thing tomorrow morning.
- Mm.

Finish your lunch, Harry.

You've got a long drive ahead of you.

When we get down near
Cabazon, pull off on exit 104.

- I want to stop at the Outlets.
- I knew it.

- It's not like it's out of the way.
- We got work to do.

I want to get something new.

Man's got to dress a certain
way when he's on the job.

You're obsessed with clothing.

You're like a chick, man.

An ugly chick, but a chick.

See, I can't expect an off-the-rack,

men's wear house motherfucker
like you to understand.

I'm not stopping.

Please.

I'll buy you a pack of
those bubblegum cigarettes

on account you don't smoke no more.

Still not stopping.

- Make it fast, Shoedog.
- I know just what I want.

A pair of double-buck monk straps in tan

with a wingtip detailing on the vamp.

I got wingtips. They're brown.

No vamp, though.

I'm not talking about those
florsheim clodhoppers you wear.

These shoes are called the burns.

Made in Italy by To Boot New York.

Let me ask you something.

If they're made in Italy,

why is the company called To Boot New York?

For real?

I'm just saying.

Hey. You guys on the clock?

Here to see Christine
Waters, 312 Deep Waters Drive.

And will she know what this is about?

Not unless she's psychic.

Hold on.

Deep Waters Drive? In the desert?

Second husband was Ralph Waters.

He built this development.

She landed in the high cotton.

Bailed on her first family, ends up here?

Ain't it the truth?

Mrs. Waters wants to
know what this is about.

We'll discuss it privately with her.

We have a court order. Open the gate.

You know, that tough-guy
routine might work okay in L.A.

but out here in the desert,
we like to do things a...

a little differently.

Mrs. Waters, please.

Eugene said you had a court order.

May I see it, Detective?

He must have misunderstood.
I said we could get one.

Well,

you're here now. Let's get this
over with, whatever this is.

It's about your son, Mrs. Waters.

- Arthur. How do you know about...
- He's dead.

He was murdered.

Oh, my god.

Please, sit down.

- Have you been in contact with him?
- No.

No. I lost touch with him a long time ago.

His remains were recently
found up on Laurel Canyon.

We identified him through
his medical records.

Wh... when did... okay.
He would have been...

32 last August.

Send him a card?

- Excuse me?
- Oh.

Right. You'd lost touch.

Your daughter said he
disappeared 20 years ago.

I didn't know.

We believe he was murdered
shortly after he disappeared.

Oh, god.

All these years, no
contact with your family?

No.

Nothing at all?

About a year after I left,

I drove by the house one
night to check on the children,

hoping to get a glimpse of
them, make sure they were okay.

But the drapes were drawn and...

I didn't stop.

Well, why not?

I was afraid of what my
ex-husband would do if he saw me.

When you filed for divorce,
you cited physical abuse.

Sam beat me.

I ran away.

I thought that the children
would be better off without me.

Better off? With an abusive alcoholic?

I'd like you to leave now,

both of you.

If there's anything further,
you can contact my attorney.

Give us a moment, Jerry?

I want you to go, too.

Mrs. Waters, you do want us to
try and find your son's killer?

Of course.

I... I gave this to Artie.

- Where did you find it?
- It was recovered from the gravesite.

Do you remember where you bought it?

Uh...

No, I... I probably picked it up somewhere.

A yard sale, maybe?

Mrs. Waters, did you ever
see your husband, your...

your ex-husband strike the children?

No, I was his punching
bag, Detective. Just me.

Why? Do you think Sam killed Arthur?

We don't know who killed your son.

We're still in the very early
stages of our investigation.

What about funeral arrangements?

I mean, I suppose I should...

Well, you could contact the coroner.

- Yeah.
- Or you could call your daughter.

Sheila?

What does she look like?

Like you.

A little taller, maybe.

Does she have a family, or...

Not that I'm aware of.

She's still in the same house.

She is?

She stayed there...

in case your son ever came home.

The bitch got under my skin.

You know how she talked about
driving by her old house,

trying to get a glimpse of her kids

through the windows at night?

I do that.

More than I care to say.

I had everything, man.

I didn't know it.

I fucked up, screwed around, other women.

I was weak like that.

Now I find myself outside
my own damn house at night,

looking at my kids through glass.

But you know what?

Wrong as I was, I'm still in their lives.

This woman in there,

she just gave up and walked away.

Said she never saw the
husband hit the kids.

You think he started beating
Arthur after she left?

I do.

I bet that's exactly what
she's thinking right now.

Christine Waters lived
a different kind of hell.

She's still in it.

Officer Pierce.

Sir.

- Second for me?
- What's up?

- It's Rondell, right?
- I go by Ron.

- So, Ron, this beef with your partner...
- Guy's a cowboy.

I beef him, I'm fucked.

I don't, I'm fucked.

So, if I'm gonna end up fucked,

I'm gonna get fucked doing the right thing.

And you can tell that to the deputy chief.

I'm not here 'cause of Irving or his son.

Then why?

Look. Your complaint goes to paper,

it becomes official record.

Waits gets kicked loose.

The judge has no choice
because you've made it official

that the probable cause
on the stop was tricked.

You want that?

No, man.

That's definitely not what I want.

Right. 'Cause you saw in
the back of the van, right,

- what Waits did?
- Yeah. I saw.

Okay. So, you got a problem.

There's ways to solve it

in-house without compromising the case.

So, what do I do?

I got to protect myself.

This job's all I got,

and I don't have a deputy
chief daddy watching my six.

Yeah. How about I talk to
Mankiewicz, get you a new partner?

- Squared-away cat like yourself?
- I don't know,

the others figure I bitched out
George, treat me like a leper.

Mank will handle it.

You two made the big bust.

Time to separate you,
spread out the street smarts.

That might work.

I got this.

Hey.

Hey.

I was just about to change into my civvies.

Feel like grabbing a bite?

We could squeeze into one of
those booths at Dan Tana's.

I'd like to. I just got
back from a road trip.

Shitloads of paperwork.
I've got to return calls.

I can wait.

Thing is, I promised my
daughter I'd call her tonight.

Rain check?

Yeah, sure.

- Is everything okay?
- Yeah, fine.

It's the case. I'm just a
little distracted, you know?

- Yeah.
- Maybe tomorrow?

Cool. Call me.

What?

I know that look.

Yeah, if anyone would...

Mm.

- Hello?
- Hey, it's Harry.

Harry. Has there been a verdict?

- Tomorrow.
- Good luck.

Thanks.

It was horrible, bringing up your mom.

It's all over the Internet.

Yeah. What are you gonna do?

- Is she there?
- Yeah. Hold on.

Maddie, your dad's on the phone!

You just caught us. We're on
our way out to soccer practice.

Here she is.

Hey, Maddie.

Hey, Harry.

Soccer practice at night?

Yeah. Too hot during the day.

Plus, skin cancer. Hello.

Good point.

Are you coming for Christmas?

I'm working on it.

Hope so. Well, I should go.

Coach makes us run laps if we're late.

Is everything okay?

Getting used to Vegas?

Yeah. Vegas is okay.

Kind of bright and shiny, you know?

Put on your shades.

I'll talk to you in a couple days. Good?

Okay. Bye, Harry.

I love y...

Have a good one.

Thank you.

Has the jury reached a verdict?

Yes, we have, Your Honor.

We, the jury,

duly empanelled and sworn
in the case of Rosa Flores

versus Hieronymus Bosch
and the city of Los Angeles,

upon our oaths do find in
favor of plaintiff Rosa Flores.

We find full damages to be $1.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,

thank you for your service.

What did she say? A dollar?

That's some bullshit. I was
right as rain with that shooting.

Oh, come on. Take yes for an answer, Harry.

Will ya? The jury's made a statement.

Yeah, that I fucked up.

No, that you got a bad guy off the street,

you just bent the rules a little too far.

Well, I can appeal if you want me to.

Come on. You're not serious. You wouldn't.

It was a rhetorical suggestion, Harry.

Harry.

Feeling good about yourself, Counselor?

Just another day at the office.

You seem pretty pleased

for someone who just
won her client a dollar.

What's your cut... 33 1/3 cents?

I did a little better than that, Detective.

The plaintiff won,

so I'm not limited to

- my piece of her dollar.
- No?

No. Mrs. Flores won't
be paying my legal fees.

That obligation will fall
to the city of Los Angeles.

- How much?
- Ballpark,

I'll probably bill them $550,000.

Good luck with that.

Oh, they'll squawk, go through the motions.

Little do-si-do around the
dance floor a couple of times,

do the ritual back-and-forth.

And then we'll settle
at $250,000, $275,000?

So they call you Money.

That, they do.

See you around, Detective.

Most likely in court.

Guys like you never stop
stepping on their own dicks.

You must be relieved.

Could have been worse.

Let's walk the river.

They've done a good job down here.

Long way to go, but not the
absolute joke it used to be.

Still a giant concrete gutter.

Cities need gutters, Bosch.

The district attorney's authorized
a field trip for Raynard Waits,

tomorrow.

Why would he do that?

Photo op, publicity stunt,

to jump-start his mayoral campaign.

You were gonna convince him

Waits lied about killing Arthur Delacroix.

Waits is lying.

Attention is his M.O.

He wants the spotlight
as much as O'Shea does.

This field trip makes him king for a day.

Well, he's convinced O'Shea.

Send some people up therewith gas probes.

I'm guessing they won't find
any bodies buried up there.

O'Shea won't be put off.

You want him to fail.

I don't want any blowback
on the department.

Security is tight as a
presidential motorcade,

and I'm making you Waits' chaperone.

It's Johnson and Moore's case.

Not the bones on the hill. They're yours.

So I want you in charge

of this fishing expedition, Detective.

In case anything goes wrong.

I suspect your instincts are right

and this is just a scam on Waits' part.

It'd be a disaster for the department

were O'Shea to be elected mayor.

And for you.

I'm a native son of South Central, Bosch.

I would hate to have to go somewhere else

to become a chief of police.

Although that might make some people happy.

Not necessarily.

The devil you know...

Hey.

Hi.

- You're surprised.
- A little.

You're out of uniform.

You forgot.

A little.

You said you were gonna call.

Just hung up with this assignment.

Everything kind of went out the window.

- What's the assignment?
- Raynard Waits,

guy with the body in his van.

We're taking him out on
a field trip tomorrow,

- see if he's full of shit.
- Hmm.

You gonna invite me in or make
me stand out here all night?

Yeah. Come in.

This isn't jazz. What are you playing?

My daughter e-mailed me a playlist.

You want a drink? We
can go out on the deck.

Later.

You're learning.

That's right.

I even got my own car.

That's how you do it.

You want I start a pot of coffee?

I got to go, but I can put it on for you.

No, I'm good.

I hope you're not too worn out.

I know you got a big day today.

Wish I could go with you.

Any chance of getting me on that detail?

Assignment's already made.

But thanks.

- You don't think I'm ready.
- It's not that.

We got it covered.

It's all officers with
a lot of time on the job.

No salty boots.

You'll have your day in the sun.

When?

Chomping at the bit.

Always.

Chow time, chow time, chow time.

All inmates, assemble
in front of your bunks.

No talking and tuck your shirts in.

Attention in the compound,

inmate Garcia... last
3-1-0-8, come to kitchen.

I like your suit, Crate.

- It's a nice cut on you.
- Oh, yeah. Thanks.

The wife said she was tired

of me looking like a used car salesman.

Sent me one of those guys from Hong Kong,

flies into the States for a few days,

works out of a hotel room near L.A.X.

Yep. I got the pinstripe.

It's a little hot.

But it makes me look slender, right?

You're about to blow away.

You're good to rock 'n' roll.

All yours, Detective.

Officer, take ahold of
him, put him in the van.

Where's your attorney?

I fired her. I'm representing myself.

Pull any shit, I'll flip
your "off" switch. You got it?

- Got it.
- Good. Load him up.

Not too late to stop this side show.

What are you afraid of, Bosch?

Let's go solve some murders, Detective.

Make some headlines?

A video record is
essential to this inquiry.

We find any kill sites or graves,

we're gonna need one.

Sir, this is just another photo op,

and I'm on the record
with you here and now...

I don't like it.

Duly noted.

Now let's go.

Our initial stop is in East L.A.

Where Waits killed his first victim.

That would be your case, Detective.

I guarantee you it never happened.

Yeah, that remains to be seen, doesn't it?

I'm in the van with Waits.

Everybody on channel eight.

You ever notice,

weather's always so nice

around Christmas and new year's?

They say when people back
east see the rose parade on TV,

they pack their bags for California.

Well, you grew up here.

It's easy to take it for granted, right?

Sell your bullshit somewhere else, Waits.

Aww. That's not polite.

I'm sorry you're skeptical, Detective.

I'm telling the truth.

You know, I read about you, Detective.

Up from such sad beginnings,

from that place where they put you after...

Your mother was taken.

And now look at you,

a man on a mission.

Isn't that what they say about you?

Or what you say about yourself?

No family.

No life.

Only cases.

Only... the mission.

You sit at home at night,
every night, all alone,

surrounded by files and
photos of dead people.

So, talk about this first stop, Waits,

where you supposedly killed
Arthur Delacroix 20 years ago.

Actually, it was much
easier than you think,

getting the boy into the van.

I was cruising the boulevard one night.

There he was with his little backpack.

He was standing there so forlorn,

like he didn't have a friend in the world.

I pulled over.

I didn't really think about it.

I just pulled over.

Rolled down the window.

Said, "hi."

"Want to go to the movies?"

He wanted to.

Ahead, you see the bridge.

Under the bridge, that's where he died.

We're going off-road here.
Left under the bridge.

Our first location is ahead.

Yeah. Under the bridge.

Here. We stop here.

It's so empty.

It's changed so much.

You think of all the people
who used to work here,

all gone.

How would you know?

My father worked here.

They said that's why he got sick.

Asbestos and fiberglass got in his lungs.

Anyway, he died.

And that was that.

Too bad.

We're going in there, Waits.

Remember what we talked about before.

I know.

You'll put me in the trunk,

and I'll never seethe light of day again.

Okay. Everybody, listen up.

All right. We're all aware
of the security risk here.

Mr. Waits is gonna direct
us to the crime scenes,

and we will be on top of his every move.

If and when we find crime scenes,

we pull Waits out and call in the coroner.

Any questions?

Okay. Let's bring him out.

Emergency power, back there on the wall.

Crate, check it.

Got it.

Where to?

That way, through there.

There's stairs down to the underneath.

So, that's where you took him?

That's where I took them all, down there.

Jerry, clear it.

- Clear!
- Let's go.

Come on. Keep moving.
Where are these stairs?

Just through there, Detective.

We're almost there.

I can't wait to show you.

Oh, shit.

Stand him up.

Up!

Ah, Jesus Christ.

- He's all right. He's just got a bloody nose.
- I think it's broken.

Barrel, go get that first
aid kit out of the van.

Yeah, sure. You got it.

Maybe we should loosen his shackles.

We don't need a lawsuit here.

- No fucking way.
- Bosch, just do it.

We need to get downsteps to the basement.

We got security covered.

- This is a bad idea.
- You're overruled.

Now loosen his hands.

If he trips again, he needs
to be able to break his fall.

- Are you fucking kidding me?
- Just do it, Detective!

Jesus Christ.

Hold him still.

We get down in the basement,

you're going back on the
fucking chain. You got me?

Hey. This thing works.

Okay. So, we take the elevator down.

- Crate, put him back on the chain.
- All right.

Give me your hands.

What if I fall again?

Then you break your nose
again, so watch your step.

Get your hands up.

Waits,

- when was the last time you were here?
- Not too long ago.

Oh, shit!

Harry, don't!

Officer needs help.
Shots fired. Officer down.

Get me an R.A. unit now!

I got one dead and one wounded officer...

Deputy D.A. Escobar,
Detective Robert Moore.

My partner is in foot pursuit,

and his direction of travel is unknown.

It's okay.

Have all units stay within a
two-block radius of my location.

Hang in there, buddy.

What's the ETA of the R.A. unit?

We're in the L.A. River on Sixth Street.

6W22 be advised.

We have a 187 suspect fleeing on foot.

White male, blue L.A. county jumpsuit.

We need an airship now!

Hey! Hey, I need your truck.

Police business. Out now.

Keep 'er running.

- You're not police.
- No shit.

Por favor.

All right. You're good.

Come on through.

How's Crate?

He's breathing.

They're taking him to county.

O'Shea?

First cockroach out of dodge.

Did you get it?

- Tell me you got it.
- I got it, yeah, but he took the card.

- Who took the card?
- O'Shea.

- Son of a bitch.
- There's the cloud, you know?

- What do you mean, the cloud?
- The backup to the cloud.

If you have a drive, I'll dub you a copy.

Fuck O'Shea. Did you see
what he did back there?

I don't have a drive.

I do.

Make me a copy, then
erase it from the cloud.

I gave you one directive, Bosch. One.

- Yeah, you did.
- You were to see

that Waits and this operation were secure.

And what did you do? You shit the bed.

You got what you wanted.

O'Shea's prospects for
mayor are in the shitter.

He'll be lucky to keep his job as D.A.

Waits was officially in
your custody, Detective.

So, technically, you,
not O'Shea, lost Waits.

And you can be sure
that's how he will spin it.

Do you have any idea what kind of position

that puts this department in?

My guy got shot up behind this bullshit.

This whole situation's fugazi.

Fugazi.

Exactly.

And now we have to un-fuck
it, don't we, Detective?

Detective Bosch, care to comment?

- How's he doing?
- Prepping him for surgery.

- Is he gonna make it?
- Fingers crossed.

- What went wrong out there?
- Everything.

You're gonna be all right, brother.

Don't worry. I'm gonna get it back for you.

Waits got his badge, too.

Oh, shit.

Shit. Shit. This is bad.

- Could've been me.
- What do you mean?

I handed Waits off to Crate,

told him to re-cuff him to the chain.

Waits made his move then.

Harry.

- You okay?
- Yeah, I'm fine.

Crate's in bad shape.

They're asking for
blood. That's never good.

See you later, okay?

Where you going?

Back to division,

help out with the phones in
case somebody dimes Waits off.

Because I'm gonna be
there when we find him.

Come on!

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