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(siren whoops)

(chuckles softly)

Couldn't stay away, huh?

- Gabriela Lincoln, Jerry Edgar.
- Task force?

She's IA, so watch your step.

Didn't think you were
coming back until next week.

He was shot, you know.

Yeah, I think I heard
something like that.

The man's a freak of nature.

Apparently his brain is located
in his left shoulder.

If it was me, man, I'd go visit

every Triple-A baseball park
in the country,

then get a big bed
in a big room up in Big Sur

and go to fucking sleep
for about a year.

Jimmy ever let you out
for fresh air, Pierce?

Tell me about it.

What are you doing here today?

Had this weird craving
for K-Cup machine coffee.

That's scary.

ROBERTSON:
Pierce.

Where the fuck
is my briefcase warrant?

Shit.

Uh...

I've got it right here.

Can I help you?

- Guy looks just like J. Edgar.
- No, can't be.

The real J. Edgar's
on the beach somewhere.

- Piña coladas.
- Mmm.

CRATE: Paid for with that
fat medical pension

any sane individual
would have jumped on.

EDGAR:
Oh, man.

Billets is acting captain,

Bosch is running
his own task force...

- Maybe it's opposite day.
- Where's my chair?

CRATE:
We missed you, too, Jerry.

J. Edgar?

We made the same
mistake, Lieutenant.

- Where's my chair?
- Wait.

You're not due back till Monday.

Figured I'd come in
at least a day early

to find all my stuff.

You're the captain?

Oh, yeah.

Until Cooper comes back
from his staycation.

New TV.
It's a self-hostage situation.

I'm serious.
Where's my chair?

(horn honks)

(door creaks)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(phone ringing)

Yeah?

SNYDER (on phone):
Special Master just showed up.

You better get back here.

(door opens)

(door shuts)

Detective.

Ms. Chandler.

When I got the call
to be Special Master

and heard the lead detective
was you,

- my heart leapt.
- I'll bet.

- Can we get started?
- Not yet.

Go get us some macchiatos.

I'll need a few more minutes
to Bosch-proof the place.

See if you can find
some of that coffee

made from ground cat shit.

♪ ♪

♪ I got a feeling
that I can't let go ♪

♪ I got a feeling that
I can't let go ♪

♪ I got a feeling
that I can't let go ♪

♪ Can't let go ♪ -♪ I got
a feeling that I can't let go ♪

- ♪ Can't let go, can't let go ♪
- ♪ I got a feeling ♪

♪ That I can't let go ♪

♪ I got a feeling
that I can't let go ♪

- ♪ Can't let go, can't let go ♪
- ♪ I got a feeling ♪

♪ That I can't let go ♪

♪ Can't let go ♪

♪ Can't let go ♪

♪ Like me. ♪

You can take that one
with you... low-hanging fruit.

His other files will require
closer review.

I'd like to get to Black
Guardian as soon as we can.

Work product
from an active case?

I don't think so.

The very definition
of attorney-client privilege,

and why I'm here.

No, you're here to help me
catch a killer

without giving someone
like yourself

an easy way to get him off.

So, what's your theory?

Oh, that's how I do it.
I decide who's guilty,

then I find what I need
to prove it.

Isn't that how we got here?
Black Guardian?

That's the uncomplicated view.

Oh, educate me, please.

The case was an
active kidnapping

when RHD caught it.

They were trying to save
the life of a little girl.

Harris' print was lifted
off a book

found in the Kincaid
girl's room.

He had a record, and he ran.

You believe their story...
The man tortured himself?

A big payday from the city.
People have done worse.

- Internal Affairs cleared them.
- Oh.

So anyone but a cop?

This is productive.

Did you know him?

Howard? A bit.

Sharks passing in the night.

I respected him.

He was difficult to like.

Yeah? How so?

More mercenary
than civil crusader.

Oh, so, kindred spirits.

Would it be fair to say
that going to trial for Elias...

Turning down a...
a big settlement...

Would be unusual?

Okay, I'll play.

Put it this way:
I seriously doubt

he would go to trial unless
he was confident

he was going to win.

So he had something.

A witness. Evidence.

Maybe he just has big
brass balls.

I'm not asking what it is,
just if it exists.

City attorney can
show you the discovery.

That's as much as
you're gonna get from me.

Where does Elias have
Harris stashed?

That's a clever workaround.

Go straight to the client.

No confidentiality there.

Far as I know,
he's at home.

Someday you'll surprise me.

(phone ringing in background)

(phone ringing in background)

That's my chair.

I don't think so.

- Stand, please.
- (clears throat)

Well...

Whoa!
How did that happen?

Barrel did it.
Barrel did it.

Are you kidding?
Robberies?

They're not gonna
audit themselves.

Did you get everything back?

Except somebody
ransacked my drawer.

Oh, Jesus wept.

When do you meet with your
IOD coordinator? -Monday.

Because that's when
I'm back, officially.

Mm. Great,
Well, in the meantime,

you can get started
on these.

Fuck, I'm the house mouse now?

You are my favorite
house mouse.

It's good to have you back,
J. Edgar.

Did you work things out
with Bosch?

- Nothing to work out.
- Perfect.

BOSCH: So, you disagree
with Ms. Chandler?

Black Guardian?

Sure you guys got it right?

We investigated, we found
Harris' claim not sustained.

Read the report.

It's never going to work.

He's been dead for too long.

Give me that.

If you're gonna break the law,
break it right.

Now, it won't lock up
for another 12 hours.

(music playing) -And you can
use it to chill out.

If need be.

(Snyder clears throat)

(phone ringing)

AUTOMATED VOICE:
The voicemail for this number

is unavailable
or has not been set up.

I didn't ask for this.

Any of it.

Ask for what?

I'm a good cop,
trying to get better.

I didn't ask to be assigned to
your stupid conduct unbecoming.

I wrote you up
because you deserved it,

and I'd do it again.
Sometimes you're an asshole.

But I also think
you're a good detective.

This going anywhere?

And I'm not Lincoln.

I'm no IA lifer.

I want to make detective and get
the hell out of the oven.

I thought, working on this case,
I could learn something

with you,
but that's not gonna happen

if you treat me
like a piece of shit.

Okay. Let's say, for the moment,
I see your point.

Tell me about Black Guardian.

- I already said...
- But not the yearbook answer.

Word of an ex-con
against four veteran RHD-threes.

No witnesses, no cameras.

There's only one way that goes.

- You think they did it.
- I think a child's life

was on the line, and they
thought they had the guy

who knew where she was,
and he wasn't talking.

I don't know if they did it.

Okay, if. Which one?

Drake, no question.

More than his fair share
of citizen complaints.

Guys like him
are the whole reason

for the Christopher Commission.

Look, bottom line,
they got the killer.

Whatever works, right?

(siren wailing in distance)

Captain didn't say anything
about it. If I had known,

- I would've...
- (knocking on door)

Come in.

Uh, absolutely.

Next year.

I will.

Runyon Canyon homeowners
had a fucking potluck,

Cooper promised
to bring dessert.

I need the keys
to the task force room.

Chief's putting you on lockdown?

- Worried about leaks.
- Leaks.

Leaks are the least of it.

He takes you, Robertson, Pierce,
leaves me shorthanded.

Everything falls
on Crate and Barrel.

Weight of the world.

I asked Wilshire for help,
but they're short

because Valley needed support
for that gang thing.

Still processing the arrests.

You wanted to be a captain.

Just when I'm finally getting
okay with not making captain,

I'm a fake captain,

on a lieutenant's pay,
and it's worse.

When's the last time you slept?

Late '70s.

(unzips)

J. Edgar.

How's the shoulder?

Harry.

I thought that was you.

Shoulder's fine.

Good to hear.

By the way,
Crate stole your chair.

Yeah.

I solved that.

- Hey.
- Hey.

Commissioner Walker called.

Wants an update on our progress.

From me.

In person, end of watch.

Jesus. Hasn't even
been a day yet.

And that address you texted,
for Michael Harris?

Yeah, what about it?

Well, place was empty.

Neighbor said
he hasn't seen him in a week.

Elias must've parked him
somewhere for the trial.

I got to go back to Chandler.

Well, Special Master be
special fucking with your head.

(chuckles)
Yeah, that ain't fresh news.

Where's Pierce?

Warrant for Elias's
Bunker Hill place.

I think there was a woman there
last night, waiting for him.

ROBERTSON:
Not his wife?

Bring a crim.

Files about our RHD friends
on the dining table.

ROBERTSON:
Special Master material.

Be sure not to look at them.

Almost like you've been there.

(sighs)

Sergeant Snyder.

That arrest report you found at
the Bradbury for Martin Elias.

Why don't you bring
that associate in

and ask him about it?

Absolutely. Yeah.

Arrested for what?

Possession.

Mm. And Lincoln,

call Central and Rampart
and request

all the crime reports
for last night.

(door opens)

BOSCH:
Adios.

ROBERTSON:
Adios.

DELGADO:
Candlelight vigil,

they don't have a permit.

Social media buzz suggests
it could be 500 people.

Or 50.

Has anybody tried
to talk to the organizer?

STANWICK:
Spontaneous thing.

No one we've been able
to pinpoint yet.

Central Bureau provides squads
for crowd control.

Metro will be on standby,
and Juvenile will maintain

station security here at PAB.

We can put some UCs
in the crowd.

And have more officers
than actual citizens.

I want a minimal
police presence.

- Chief, if this thing blows...
- Be prepared to move with force.

But let's not create a scenario

where this becomes
a referendum on LAPD.

People want to pay respects.

Let them do so.

It may help us down the line.

(knocking on door)

I only found out Harris
was squirreled away

after you left.

My bad.

Must have missed your call.

Who's the detective here?

He checked in
looking for Kaplan.

I'm pretty sure
I'm only obligated

to provide you
with what you ask for.

Where's Harris?

I'll go with.

Otherwise, you won't get him
to open the door.

Scraping a sharp pencil
across a man's temporal lobe

can cause serious mood swings.

Angling to take up
his cause, Counselor?

It would be incredibly bad form

for me to leverage
the advantage of my position.

When did that ever
stop you before?

I did find that Black Guardian
case notebook you asked about.

Yeah? Did you read it?

Enough to know that it is
capital "P" privileged.

But if it helps,
there's no smoking gun.

At least, nothing
that would make me want

to take this case to a jury.

Oof. Some serious
flappage there.

You leaving soon?

Well, in theory, I'm not here.

Why?

There's are a few more warrants
I need to grind out,

but me and Jimmy need
to do a search... -Fine.

I got your back.

Harry doesn't trust
the IA people.

No shit.

Go.

Thanks.

Oh, hey.

And don't you have that tech guy

who can help expedite
phone stuff?

CHANDLER:
We've been holed up here

since the beginning
of voir dire.

Elias paid two weeks in advance.

So Elias thought the trial
would be one and done.

(chuckles)
Nice try.

LAPD. Car stays here.

VALET:
Uh...

CHANDLER:
Thank you.

Let him see you first.

Mr. Harris?

Mr. Harris, it's Honey Chandler,
we spoke on the phone earlier.

And I said I ain't talking.

- HARRIS: The fuck, man?
- Bosch. Homicide.

I especially don't talk to cops.

Not without a lawyer,
and mine's fucking dead.

That's why I'm here, Mr. Harris.

You even touch him again,
I'll call the judge.

She's a lawyer
and an officer of the court.

- She'll protect you.
- Yeah?

And when's she gonna start?

HARRIS:
Man, cops killed Mr. Elias.

And probably now
want to kill me, too.

They won't let anyone
take this to trial.

BOSCH:
Why?

Because my lawyer
was gonna prove what they did.

Whole world was gonna know.

Your lawyer tell you
how he was gonna do that?

You don't have to answer that,
Mr. Harris.

You're looking at
how he was gonna do it.

Me.

He was gonna put you
on the stand.

Tell my tale.

He called it my testi-money.

You must be one
hell of a storyteller.

The truth is always
the best story, lawyerman said.

Truth is,

cops came in that junkyard
like a pack of wolves.

Take me to that storage room,
grill me hard, high heat.

"Where is she?
What did you do with her?"

And I'm saying,
"I ain't do it, I ain't do it."

I don't even know
what they talking about.

Kidnap a little white girl?

Come on, man. That ain't me.

And they tortured you.

Counselor, whose story is this?

I have to piss, you know?

After all that while.

So they take me to the bathroom.

Okay.

I start in.

They come in after. Boom.

- Both of them?
- The fuck would I know?

I'm down, I'm cut.

Blood in my eyes, and he's on me
with, like, a choke hold.

Jamming my head
into the bowl, deep.

I'm drowning in piss water.

Plastic bag time.

They sack my head like a melon,

but real tight,
no air, no air at all.

(exhales)

Here it comes.

- A fucking nail in my ear.
- (screaming)

Pressing, pressing.
"You did it. Admit it.

Tell us where she is."

And then, the pain.

I would've said anything
to stop it.

I told them
I'd take them to her,

just let me take out
that pencil,

and we'd go save
that poor little girl.

They let you take it out.

Get my prints on it, you know.

(grunting, shouts)

Give me a wad of paper towel,
and we drove.

And drove.

I said she was in the desert.

I knew Barstow
was a couple hours.

They drove, and I prayed.

Then the call come in.

Someone found the girl's body,
it'd just been dumped.

By her dad.

They released you.

Motherfuckers dropped me off
at the urgent care on Fountain.

Bullshit doc in a box.

Band-Aid, couple of oxys, and
now it's my word against theirs.

But Elias thought
you could win.

He did.

When's the last time
you talked to him?

Come by yesterday morning.

Said the city upped the number
to 420.

I said, "Take it."

But Mr. Elias said
that was chicken feed.

A jury could give me
ten times that.

You believed him.

Mr. Elias believed me, man.

Like, really believed me.

Like he was there
when it happened.

Now he's dead.

And cops did it,
and I'm fucked.

You think you could still
get me that 420?

(knock on door)

PIERCE:
LAPD. Anyone home?

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(car locator chirps)

(car locator chirps)

(car locator chirps)

DOORMAN:
Two spaces.

Him and his wife...
and guest.

She comes and goes.

Can anyone come and go
without you knowing it?

We got eyes on every egress.

Do you keep records
of the license numbers

authorized to park down below?

Matter of fact, we do.

KAPLAN:
He asked me to take care of it.

Meaning what?

- Make it go away?
- No.

That was what he'd
always done in the past.

Howard wanted his son to...

bleed a bit this time.

To learn a lesson.

How did Martin take the news?

Y-You know I can't
answer that.

Why you?

What do you mean?

Your boss seemed to treat you
like a messenger.

At least, from what I saw
on your desk.

Glorified paralegal.

Howard was a...

was a one-man band.

But he wouldn't have hired me

if he didn't respect me
as a lawyer.

He ever share strategy
with you?

Because...
Wondering aloud here...

If he was willing to turn down

the city's offer
for Black Guardian,

maybe he had something
he knew a jury would

give him a lot more money for
if he took it to trial.

Magic bullet, you know.

No, see, that's the thing.

I don't know.

One-man band, like I said.

(phone ringing)

Hey.

What did you say
to my client

when you showed the house?

EDGAR (on phone):
Nothing. Why?

I thought he was gonna
lowball me.

He came in full price.

You should do all my showings.

EDGAR:
Can we meet at my place?

Uh, I've got some pizza.

We can stream something
kid-friendly.

Where are you?

EDGAR: I had to come
straighten out my desk.

Hollywood Station?

Yeah. They stole my chair.

Mm.

How much longer
you think you'll be?

EDGAR:
Well, Pierce asked if I can

help him with some paperwork
on the Elias murder.

They got a task force going.

I'm not on it.
They... (sighs)

They're shorthanded,
you know?

We'll meet you at 7:30.

They can do homework before.

- Pepperoni?
- Hawaiian.

7:30, J.

Yeah.

(neighborhood dogs barking)

Pamela Duncan in?

- Santiago Robertson, LAPD.
- Darling, I got it.

What's going on?

Uh, a few questions
about Howard Elias.

MAN:
She barely knew him.

It's okay, Ben.

Do you mind if we walk Monster?

PAMELA:
I waited for him to join me,

and he just never showed up.

I had to get home, obviously.

And you went back and cleaned up
when you heard the news.

The last thing Howard
and his family needed

was to be dragged
through the tabloid swamp.

Not to mention your career.

How long?

I've known Howard for years,

but we only started
sleeping together

when I signed onto the case.

A man who loves to settle
worries about jurors?

This one was different.

Howard wanted the world
to know

what those detectives did
to Michael Harris.

Wasn't gonna let the city
bury this with a settlement,

but wasn't gonna turn down a fat
check from the jury, either.

No. He changed.

The man got religion.

Decided it was time
to do some good.

For me, an attractive quality.

Where was your husband
last night?

On the red eye from New York.

Do you think his wife
knew about you?

Me, yes.
The fucking, no.

But his son found out.

How'd that go?

Anonymous texts,

vicious e-mails
from phony senders.

The whole thing
blew up last week.

Martin called his dad
a hypocrite to his face.

The kid was pretty jacked up.

Jacked up enough to kill him?

How am I gonna keep this
from destroying my marriage?

You're asking the wrong guy.

How did you know
they had a secret menu?

Mom, even Dad knows.

I could make these.

- I don't think so.
- (chuckles)

Who was that guy
you were talking to?

Mm.

His daughter's
on the Balboa Eighteens.

She's not playing very much,

so they're thinking
of switching clubs.

You know.

Yeah, it's just, um...
sliced potatoes,

onions, cheese.

Throw it in the microwave,

nuke it till
it looks like this...

You should get a cooking show.

I could definitely make these.

You could definitely
ask Reggie to do it

for you when he gets here.

If, in fact, he's coming at all.

Honey...
(short chuckle)

Come on.
What can I say?

How about the truth?

The truth would be nice.

Even a little bit of it.

See you tomorrow.

Tell Harry th...

So, does the mistress-slash-
jury consultant have an alibi?

Well, security puts her
in the apartment,

but I doubt a woman
committed this crime.

- Why not?
- Well, call it a hunch,

but bullet up the ass
is tantamount to rape.

I don't think a female
makes that statement.

- Don't sell us short.
- BOSCH: Duncan's story

- about the son?
- Prior arrests, but none stuck.

The associate claims dad
always intervened.

Yeah, mistress seemed to think
Elias had some

"come to Jesus"
thing going on.

Came down hard on the kid.

SNYDER: That's motive, isn't it?
- Is it?

What else?

Wallet is a dead end.
Credit cards, license,

receipts, pictures of his wife,
loose change.

Eh, pull the purchase records
anyway for the credit cards.

You never know.

J. Edgar's phone guy's
gonna help with turnaround

on that number
that left the text for Elias.

ROBERTSON: How are we doing
on his old cases?

First batch, already got
about a half a dozen cops

with plausible motive
to kill him.

- BOSCH: Clients?
- Nothing yet.

- Clients loved him.
- Uh, we should keep our focus

on our Black Guardian
detectives.

Francis Sheehan was involved
in a OIS a few years back.

I remember it came
up in our IA review.

Well, find it.
And any others

for the cops you got
on your short lists.

I'm pulling all Terry Drake's
old use of force complaints.

Could be something there.

It goes where it goes.

Drake knows the score.

Okay. Everybody go home,
get some sleep.

Tomorrow we pull in the RHD
boys, verify their alibis,

cross 'em off the list.

Or not.

- (bicycle bell rings)
- (gasps)

Jesus, watch where the fuck
you're going!

(indistinct conversations)

WOMAN: Why am I even
talking to the L.A. Times?

IA clears the RHD cops
on Black Guardian,

it's page one, above the fold.

REPORTER:
We report the news, Ms. Zealy.

ZEALY:
Do you? Or do you just

print whatever press release
the city hands out?

So, in other words, you're doing
now exactly what you say

the city's doing...
Making prejudicial assumptions,

jumping to conclusions
without the facts. -No.

It's just, if the police
try to cover this up,

the community needs to respond,
and we will.

Look, I'm here out of respect
to Howard Elias,

a man that dedicated his life to justice.
Thank you.

(doorbell rings)

Harry Bosch.
I called ahead.

Sure.
Come on in, Detective.

I'll tell Mr. Walker
you're here.

Lakers up by 11,
fourth quarter.

Follow basketball?

Not so much.

Well, I'm sorry to make
your long day longer, Detective.

I really only have
one question.

Same one everyone's asking.

I wanted to hear it from you.

Out of earshot
of the department and City Hall,

in case that factors.

It doesn't.

What do you think?

Didn't you know him?

The photograph on his ego wall:

you, the mayor, Elias.

Well...

like all of us,

he had this city in his blood.

Like you, I think.

Like your father?

My father bulldozed Bunker Hill

so lawyers could have
an ocean view.

His father destroyed
Chavez Ravine

for low-cost housing
he knew would never happen.

But you're better than that.

That's not for me to judge.

Was it a cop who killed Elias?

Logical assumption.

You have other suspects?

Following all the leads.

Ask the right questions,

I have to believe...

the answers
will get me to the truth.

You know, that cold case

you're working on...

Can I be of any help?

When I think you can,

you can be sure
I'll reach out to you.

Hello?

Anyone home?

Hello?

Come on.
15 minutes?

Guys?

- (shouting)
- Hey!

Okay... Aah!

Ooh, Jesus,
you scared the hell out of me.

That was the idea, I think.

You really thought we'd left?

Ah, plates,

napkins, chop-chop.

We wouldn't leave, Dad.
Not with pineapple pizza.

(chuckling):
Look at you.

A comedian.

- (chuckles)
- (chuckles)

(music playing on earbuds)

Mom is an impossible human.

Talk or text, Mads.

We got third in our pool.

Liz kept setting Emma,
who kept hitting it out.

We lost our first
and last match.

Mads, please.

Thank you.

(sighs)

Sorry I couldn't be there.

Angel's Flight homicide.

Becca's mom saw you on TV.

♪ KilledByCops.
It's trending.

Mmm. ♪Wrong.
Beginning stages.

- Gathering information...
- I know.

And then sifting.

I asked Mom about Reggie.

She won't talk about it.

Mmm.

Maybe she's trying
to figure it out herself.

Did you eat?

Was she like this
when you guys broke up?

(sighs)
Wow, I... I don't remember.

I mean, when you're
in it, it's...

it's kind of hard
to see things clearly.

You think they are splitting up?

I know. Talk to her.
I tried.

Then keep trying.

Keep trying. Obviously.
I'm a Bosch, Dad.

- (laughs)
- That's what we do.

- You want some double-double?
- Oof. No.

- I'm too tired to chew.
- It's still warm.

And, unlike sushi, still good.

There's fries inside.

(pats knee)

(car alarm chirps quietly)

(door buzzes, lock clicks)

Oh.

Game's this way.

(quiet, indistinct conversation)

Eleanor.

We were just about
to start without you.

Good thing you didn't.

Can't win 'em all when you don't
win the first one.

Blinds are 500 and 1,000.
First ace deals.

(speaks Mandarin)

Beginner's luck.

(record needle idling)

(crickets chirping,
sirens wail in distance)

5,000 to you.

Let's make it 20.

Good hand.

Game's over. I'm sorry.

The game has to end.

Huh?
(speaks Mandarin)

Are you kidding?
We paid for the whole night.

I understand.
I will return your money.

We paid for this room,

and we're not leaving
until the game's over.

I'm sorry.

You're done here.

- Please, please, come.
- Cash them out.

Come, please, this way.
Cash them out.

Please. Let's go,

- please, please, hurry. Hurry.
- You missed your plane.

Aren't there planes every day?

I told him
but he wouldn't listen.

(speaks Mandarin)

Let me explain.

(hitting, grunting)

Please, you must leave now.

Uh... No, this way.

I won't be a second.

♪ ♪

Eleanor.

- Uh...
- What are you doing?

You forgot your money.

Thanks.

♪ ♪

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