All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.Criminal.Intent.S01E05.WEB-DL.x264-ION10

In New York City's war on crime

the worst criminal offenders
are pursued

by the detectives
of the Major Case Squad.

These are their stories.

This one is you, Karen.

Martinis in Millbrook
or punch in Palm Beach.

It's so versatile.

Sydney, really, I got to go.

Are you sure you know
what you're doing?

If Bernie ever found out...

Just be happy for me.

(radio alarm buzzes)

(alarm stops)

KAREN:
I know I'm late.

I had to give your appointment
away to a walk-in client.

Rochelle, this is an emergency.

I have a date.

With him?

I can't help myself.

KAREN:
He's French.

Even when he's just
ordering a sandwich

it makes you feel like
you're in a movie.

KAREN
He says he loves me.

Talk is cheap.

So, what color?

Ah, just give me the usual.

Damn. Erma, I have
to go; I'm hours late.

He won't care how long he waited
when he sees you in this.

Ooh...

Want to try it on?

Oh, I can't; I'm late.

Just wrap it.

Cherie?

Yoo-hoo?

Dennis?

Oh, damn, I can't believe
I broke my...

Dennis?

(gaspings)

MAN:
His name is Dennis Dupont.

He checked in sometime
around 1:00 this afternoon.

He stayed
with us before.

Always the same lady?

Lady?

The champagne,
the strawberries.

I never paid attention.

I know sometimes he held
business meetings here

How long
will you people be?

It depends.
What business?

You know, this room is reserved
for tomorrow night.

The more you can help me

the faster we'll
be out of here.

Finance, I believe.

Any phone calls in or out?

Uh... the operator put one call
through a woman at ten to two.

Then Mr. Dupont
phoned down

and asked not
to be disturbed.

Do you have a home address
for him?

No, but I think he lives
in town someplace.

How did he pay?

With credit card
from a Paris bank.

And he never gave you
a local address?

No, and we never asked.

It's a woman's fingernail.

I brought him champagne and
strawberries just before 2:00.

He was by himself.

You see anybody go in or out
of his room?

Anybody on the floor
who didn't belong?

[Russian accent]
I saw woman by the elevator,
and she was not guest.

She was in a hurry.

She kept pressing, you know

the button to go down very fast.

What did she look like?

I think she was redhead.

Fat, thin...?

Medium, maybe, in big fur coat,
Russian sable.

Very rich lady.

There's no wallet.

Just an International
Driver's License.

With a very bad picture.

Dennis Dupont,
Paris, France.

Thirty-three.

The maid said
he was good-looking.

This makes him look like
all three of the Three Stooges.

Maybe he had a pay date,
ordered a girl, got the pimp?

Champagne
and strawberries

for a hooker? Nah.

Anyway, there's too much blood
and guts for a robbery.

Dennis Dupont was attacked
practically the moment
he opened this door.

Blood spattered on the doorjamb.

The beating carried
into here...

and ended with
a broken glass ashtray.

And the way the face is
mutilated makes it personal.

Jealous husband.

If Dupont chose his
girlfriends as carefully

as he chose his jackets,
he'd still be alive.

"Enzo Pari." Custom-made.

Things like this do not
happen to our customers.

I mean, he was just in here
three weeks ago.

Picked up his new suit,
ordered two summer suits.

No, I do not have
an address for him.

This is a disaster.
The pattern is made,
the cloth's been cut.

How about a
phone number?

No. He said
he was traveling.

How'd you tell him
when his suits were ready?

He called me.
He was always
in a hurry to get his suits.

He's a busy fellow.

Busy doing what?

I don't know.
Mr. Dupont did not use his
personal life for small talk.

What did he talk about?

Business, politics,
stock market.

He used to tell me
I should invest

as if I had
that kind of money.

So, he just walks
in off the street

and orders a bunch
of $5,000 suits?

He was referred to us by a very
good customer, Jonathan Phelps.

I kept running into him
at dinner parties.

He was great fun.

It's tragic loss for the family,
I'm sure.

First, John Dupont killing
the wrestler and now this.

Dennis was one
of those Duponts?

Yes, by his father.

His mother was French.

He was raised there.

So, what's the inside story?

We think he was meeting
somebody at the Newbury.

Any candidates?

I wouldn't know;
I'd been out of touch

with Dennis since last summer.

I thought Dennis could talk
his way out of any tight spot.

He had a talent for
that sort of thing?

Oh, speeding tickets,
social blunders--

Dennis could charm his way
in or out of anything.

The last time
you saw him?

A... few weeks ago.

I ran into him at La Goulue.

He was hanging out
with a new crowd.

Roy Markham, the investment
banker, and his wife, Sydney.

Dennis and I threatened to call
each other, but we never did.

WOMAN:
Dead?!

We had no idea; we just
came in from Bedford.

I don't know what
we can tell you.

He was really just
an acquaintance.

The... the people
at the restaurant said

you ate there together
a number of times.

As part of a group.

Dennis was a good extra
man to have around.

This is awful news.

GOREN:
We're having a hard time
pinning down where he lived.

Somewhere on the Park.

- Isn't that right, Sydney?
- Mm-hmm.

ROY:
If you leave me your card,
I'll ask around.

We'll do everything to help.
Louisa!

We'll be expecting
your call.

I thought you said
no one would get hurt.

Will you shut up?

EAMES:
Far as anybody knows
this guy lived in the ether.

You'd think the Dupont family'd
keep track of their heirs.

We got calls in to them

the French Consulate,
Interpol...

Good, good.
You found a fingernail
at the scene?

The nail polish was fresh.

Forensics matched it
to a polish

sold only at very
exclusive salons.

Only a few hundred
of those in the city.

(phone rings)

Major Case Squad.

Detective Eames speaking.

Yes. Thank you
for returning my call.

The question came
up at a briefing
if Dupont was using.

There was only champagne
found in the room.

That was the French Consulate.

Dupont was a guest
at a reception last month.

They mailed the invitation
to his home.

MAN:
It's a sublet.

The owners live
across town,
the Blackstones.

Um, maybe you
should talk to them

before you start going
through Mr. Dupont's things.

Was he a friend of theirs?

Mrs. Blackstone told me

that he was a close,
personal friend of hers.

Did Mr. Blackstone know that
Mr. Dupont was living here?

Can't see that
he couldn't.

EAMES:
Dupont have many visitors?
Lady friends?

No, no.

He was minding his Ps and Qs.

The residents here
are thin-skinned

about any kind of bad behavior.

He was already on notice
for smoking in the elevator.

The French, you know.

EAMES:
We'll need
the Blackstones' address.

There's something so chilling
about picking up the paper

and reading about an old lover
being murdered.

(sighs)

When did you stop
seeing Mr. Dupont?

Months ago, and...

we only slept
together once.

The French are
highly overrated.

He lived in your apartment?

He needed a place to stay
while he was house-hunting.

What about your husband?

He didn't mind;
he travels a lot;
he's rarely in town--

dog shows, funerals,
The U.S. Open...

Yes, I see he likes tennis,
but that's not what I meant.

Did your husband have
a relationship with him?

Dennis wasn't a switch-hitter

and if he were, he wouldn't
have been my husband's type.

Mind if I ask how you...?

GOREN;
The photos.

Your husband
and his male tennis friends.

You and your horses.

No photos together. No children.

Separate but equal lives.

Very good.

Well, if you want to know
who Dennis was sleeping with

why don't you ask Felix?

Who's Felix?

Felix Perez

was Dennis's gofer.

GOREN:
Do you have an address
for him?

Heavens, no.

Why would I?

The blows were methodical

intended to inflict
the most pain.

Kidneys, ribs, groin.

Variation in color
of the bruises indicates

the victim was worked over
for a period of an hour or so.

- The work of a professional.
- Yeah, I'd say so.

Internal injuries?

Ruptured spleen, broken
ribs, punctured lungs.

Somebody wanted something
from Dupont: information.

You can't talk
very clearly

with your face
looking like that.

The damage to the face
was postmortem.

Cause of death
was asphyxiation.

So, somebody tortured him
for an hour, suffocated him

and then for the hell of it,
beat his face into hamburger?

I guess they didn't get
what they were after.

Charity balls, gallery openings,
nightclub passes

receipts for Daniel, Le Cirque--

this guy was living
a high-octane existence.

I'm heading upstairs
for a Compstat.

Any breaking news on Dupont
to liven up my presentation?

Uh, sure.

The DMV shows an address on
his assistant, Felix Perez.

Progress.

The building was
torn down last year

and Felix didn't leave
a forwarding address.

Thank you.

What's all this?

Dupont's personal effects--
maybe what the bad guys

were looking for
will show up in his papers.

Anything does, page me.

Here's George W.'s number
in Texas.

Really? I have
a letter here

from Donald Trump

thanking Dupont for
his "timely advice."

And he misspells
the word "investment."

You'd think Trump's secretary
would use spellcheck.

(sighs)

Here we go.

Washington Livery, Felix Perez.

Yeah, okay, maybe
he did work here.

But that doesn't mean

I had anything to do
with anything he was doing.

he doing?
Like, what was

What I heard from
the other drivers...

He'd pick up these Asian
businessmen at the airport

offer to get them hookers

take a couple hundred off them
and then disappear--

that and other things.

So you fired him.

No, he got a better offer.

From?

Customer he picked up
at JFK last summer.

A rich guy.

Perez said he was going to be
this guy's personal assistant.

Good luck to the both of them.

EAMES:
The landlady says Felix
has been MIA since the murder.

Look at this, signatures--
Donald Trump, Rupert Murdoch

Prince Ernst of Hanover.

Perez was practicing
forgery.

And here, letters
of reference

for Dennis Dupont,
unsigned.

Now, why would the heir
to the Dupont fortune

need phony character
references?

Low self-esteem?

We can always ask
the Duponts.

I'm sorry I was tardy
in responding to your inquiry

about Dennis Dupont.

All the newspapers were calling

and I had no information
to give them, naturally.

Why "naturally"?

I did an in-depth
search of the family records
regarding Dennis Dupont

this time concentrating on
the French side of the family.

Dupont's a very common
name in France

but he's not one of ours.

There's no connection
to the family.

You said this time
you made another search?

Mm-hmm,
a few weeks ago.

For whom?

A Mr. Bernard Cove.

Said he was in real estate.

Dupont kept hawking me
to invest with him

so I checked him out.

When the Duponts said
they'd never heard of him...

Well, I decided to keep
my money where it was.

We should have known-- his
manners, his name-dropping...

he just didn't feel
like old money.

Did he find other investors?

I don't know.

Where'd you meet him?

- A gallery opening,
right?
- Mm, mm-hmm.

Somebody introduced us.
I don't remember who.

We heard that women
found him attractive.

Did you find him
attractive, Mrs. Cove?

I suppose.

What was it about him,
specifically?

Being a man,
I'm curious.

I couldn't tell
from his photo.

Was it his mouth, his eyes?

You'll have to excuse me.

MAN:
Dupont's finances track
like a game

of snakes and ladders.

Wire transfers to five
different accounts

withdrawals by
cashier's checks.

All the money's
missing...

over $2 million.

Missing, you mean,
out of the country?

No, I checked the Feds
for notifications
of foreign transfers.

Nothing.

Money's here somewhere.

W-where does the money
come from?

He had some kind of
investment club...

heavy hitters at
$300,000 apiece.

Roy Markham, Mindy Blackstone,
George Reid, and guess who?

Bernard Cove said he never
invested with Dupont.

But here's a cashier's
check receipt

for 250K from his account
payable to Dupont

four weeks before he called
the Dupont family office.

He found out
Dupont was a phony

after he gave him
the money

which isn't what he told us.

So, we don't like
Perez anymore?

He's low-rent?
He's missing?

Or now that his boss is dead,
he's running scared.

You think Cove knew Dupont
was schtupping his missus?

Might've.

Might've used the affair
to set up Dupont.

Guy was picking my
wallet and my bed

I'd want him
whacked, too.

How do you want to proceed?

A search warrant?
What are you looking for?

A fur coat,
Russian sable.

You could save yourself
a lot of trouble

if you just show us
where you keep it.

My husband just left
for his office.

- He'd prefer it if
you'd return...
- Mind turning this way, ma'am?

What? What
are you doing?

We need a photo to show the
staff at the Newbury Hotel.

Why? What for?

The warrant is also valid
for nail polish products

or any records
of visits to nail salons.

Someone left a broken nail
in Dennis Dupont's room.

(under breath)
Oh, my God.

I could use a drink.

You want to tell us something?

I didn't kill him.

He was already dead
when I got to the room.

There was nothing
that I could do.

Did your husband know you
were meeting him there?

My husband?
No, absolutely not, why?

We suspect he was setting
a trap for Dupont.

No, not over an affair.

Besides, he did not know
about Dennis and me.

Who knew you were
going to the hotel?

Nobody.

Sydney.

Sydney Markham is
a friend of yours?

Yes, a very good friend.

She introduced
Dennis to me.

Sydney Markham

whose husband gave
Dupont $325,000?

Well, I had no idea
they'd invested.

She never said a word.

Oh, my God.

Oh, my God, how could I
have been so stupid?

It must have been all of them.

They were all in on it.

They came to my house,
two of them.

They won't find
out anything.

How can you be so sure, hmm?
They got this far.

There's no point
to arguing among ourselves.

We just pay this guy off
and get it over with.

We paid him
to get our money back,
which he didn't do.

Now we pay him more money
'cause he botched the job?

We want him
to leave town, period.

Don't you people
get it?

We killed a man.

We might not have meant it
to happen

but we
are responsible.

Okay, we're
responsible.

This is what the son of a bitch
is asking for.

I divided it
four ways.

Good God.

We pay this
and we never have
to worry about it again.

You hope.

A murder conspiracy?

By some of our more
prominent citizens.

I'm as shocked
as you are.

If Dupont was
ripping them off

then why not go
to the police?

Embarrassment?

Savvy businessmen

taken in by impostor
with Continental accent?

Whoa, there'd be cautionary
tales in the Journal.

Their credibility
would be shot.

I don't see
the evidence.

Can you substantiate
Mrs. Cove's story?

Dupont got a call at
his hotel room at 2:00

from a woman.

Karen Cove said
it wasn't her.

She said Sydney Markham
delayed her.

Sydney Markham might have been
the one who called Dupont

to make sure he was in place
for his beating.

They want to subpoena
her phone records.

I'll make it happen.

No, I did not call Dupont
at his hotel.

I didn't even know
he was at a hotel.

Your phone records show
the call came from here.

Well, I don't know
how that's possible.

I do. You're not going
to like my explanation.

WOMAN:
Sydney?
Your driver is downstairs.

Uh, tell Sammy
I'll be 20 minutes.

(sighs)
You're forcing me
to betray a confidence.

Karen Cove was here
that afternoon

and I believe she was having
an affair with Dupont.

Now, if there was a phone call,
it must have come from her.

She already told us
about the affair.

She denied making
the call.

Well, I don't like to say this
about a friend...

but Karen is lying.

She called him.
I overheard her.

Show me your license
and registration.

What's the problem,
officer?

Uh, well, you're parked
too close to the hydrant.

I thought the rule
was 15 feet.

Well, y-you look
about 14 feet to me.

Okay, Sammy, here you go.

EAMES:
Besides driving Mrs. Markham

Samuel Bell's been arrested
for bookmaking

and a couple of dope pops.

In the bookmaking
who were his associates?

Two.
Tommy Doonan--
looks like he was the bank--

and Leslie Rochét--
convictions for assault

assault, assault...

A collector.

He's still on probation.
Couple of phone numbers.

Let's track him down.

EAMES:
Hi, is Les there?

It's Sandy.

Well, I owe him some money,
and you know how he is.

(laughs):
Florida?

Oh, shoot, I'd so love
to talk to him.

You think you got his number
down there?

Thanks a bunch. Bye.

Boca Raton, sport fishing.

What do you know?
A parole violation.

LESLIE:
I don't do things like this.

I'm a professional--

no muss, no fuss,
no murder.

Check my rap sheet.

We looked in that
doctor's bag of tricks

the Boca Raton police
got off you--

slapjacks,
brass knuckles

all of which are illegal,
by the way.

My client collects those
for entertainment purposes only.

He'd never actually
hit anybody with them.

Then Mr. Dupont
must have bumped

into your client's
brass knuckles

because they match
the bruises on his body.

We're all grown-ups here.

You have one chance

to take your chestnuts
out of the fire

and tell us
who hired you

or... go down for this
all by yourself.

Roy Markham got my name
from his driver.

He told me some guy
ripped off him
and his friends.

Markham told me to go
to this hotel room.

The guy would
be there.

They sent me to
reason with him.

But straightaway,
the guy head-butts me

and makes for the door,
so I got to knock him down.

It took me a little while

to get control of the situation
but when I did,

I asked him where
the money was.

Kept saying he didn't know.

About a half hour later,
he passed out.

It was time to quit.

I left.

He was still breathing.

I did not kill him.

I did not break an ashtray...
on his face.

You said it took a while

for you to get things
under control.

This guy was fighting you?

Oh, yeah, from the get-go.

You know, I think
he liked to fight.

Might have had a
little training.

Is this the guy
you beat up?

No.

Yeah, that's the guy.

Felix Perez.

Who's Perez?

He's the guy
you beat up.

The wrong guy.

EAMES:
Somebody tipped Dupont off
so he put Perez in the room

to get the beating
meant for him.

He came back after
Leslie Roche left

finished off Perez,
disfigured him

and left him unidentifiable.

Do we even know
Dupont's real identity?

We sent the prints
from his apartment to France.
No hits yet.

So now he's free
to disappear.

While the people he conned
take the rap for his murder.

There's a chance
he's still around.

He's flamboyant
and narcissistic.

He's going
to want to be

where he can witness
his handiwork.

Oh, and he still has two million
bucks stashed somewhere.

CARVER:
So then it's just
a question of flushing him out.

GOREN:
Well, the moment
that he has an inkling

that we're on to
him, he's gone.

We need to maintain
his sense of security.

So what are you suggesting?

Charge Markham
and the rest
of his friends

with Dupont's murder.

Charge them for a murder
they didn't commit

of a person who isn't dead?

I can't begin to count
the number of violations
that would entail.

Mr. Carver, this man Dupont
or whatever his name is has

had us chasing our tails
for the last couple of weeks.

I don't know about you

but I do not like
being made a fool of.

Payback is the healthy
human response here.

Well, I suppose Mr. Roche
could be lying

and he did kill the man
at the hotel room

and since the identity
of the deceased is still

a matter of conjecture

it's entirely proper
that we charge them

with the murder of John Doe
a.k.a. Dennis Dupont.

Meantime, we give this
to the papers.

The bigger the headlines,
the better.

I want Dupont
to take the hook.

The people charged
in the murder of Dennis Dupont

include financier Ron Markham

his wife, hat designer
Sydney Markham

real estate developer
Bernard Cove and his wife...

Didier, why are
you hiding here?

I always hated that picture.

It doesn't even look like you.

Come on now.

I have someone
I want you to meet.

Quentin, this is my boyfriend,
Didier.

He's opening the nightclub
I was telling you about.

Simone, you
bad girl.

I told you not
to talk about it.

I only did it
because Quentin is so nice.

He's looking for a place to...

How do you say it?

Park your money?

Well...

Well, I have to be
honest with you.

I'm not really looking
for investors.

May I ask, did you get
this suit at Saville Row?

Well, yes, I was just
in London for some meetings.

I get very intrigued by a man
who doesn't want my money.

So...

Tell me
about your club, hmm?

ROY MARKHAM:
Not guilty.

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

Not guilty.

People on bail.

CARVER:
A million dollars
each, Your Honor.

BASCOMB:
Such high bail,
Your Honor

when the charges are
patently ridiculous.

There's no motive
for any murder.

The monies my clients paid
Mr. Dupont

were venture capital

with no expectation
of repayment.

CARVER:
Your Honor, they make
two-million dollar gifts

to perfect strangers

and here they are squawking
about bail?

Your protestations do sound
hollow, Mr. Bascomb.

Bail is set at a million

for each defendant. Next.

Docket #3922:
People v. Nanette Cove.

The charge is two counts
of larceny...

My client, Mrs. Markham,
wants to talk.

All right.

I warned Dennis.

My husband put this scheme
in motion to get our money back

but I couldn't go through
with it.

So I called him.

From my showroom.

I told him
that they were sending a man

over this his hotel.

I told him he should leave.

I don't understand
why he didn't.

Since she renunciated
the plan

she's off the hook
for the murder.

CARVER:
I'll consider it.

Mrs. Markham,
were you and Mr. Dupont lovers?

Briefly.

You know he wasn't
who he claimed to be.

Yes.

Before my husband
or any of the others.

- But you didn't care?
- No.

To see someone like him trick
my husband and his friends...

Someone like him,
what do you mean?

He was raised in an orphanage.

My father owned
a grocery store.

I know what's it's like
to climb up.

We were very good friends.

Well, how did he show it?

Like my hat business.

Roy called it a money drain,
a hobby

but Dennis made me
take it seriously.

He helped me
develop a business plan.

He organized my books.

Organized your books?

Yes.

He believed in me.

IDA:
Mrs. Markham brought him in

a couple of months ago

like he was some kind
of business god.

He didn't know a line sheet
from an order form.

Did he ask about
any banking information?

Routing numbers,
that sort of thing?

No, but he asked
for the articles
of incorporation

and the corporate seal.

Did he say why?

No. I know he kept
them overnight.

I don't know what for.

To open a bank account,
for one thing.

This letter from the IRS,
you know anything about it?

It's a tax lien.

A tax lien?

It's dated three weeks ago.

MAN:
Mode O'Day Hats--
$65,000 in unpaid payroll taxes.

With penalties and interest,
it comes to $90,000.

Your letter said
that you already
seized that money

from their
bank account.

But the bank said
that they have no record
of the seizure.

Well, they should.
Nissei Bank.

Wait, that's not their bank.

Well, found an account there
under their name.

It opened two months ago.

How much in the account?

As of two weeks ago

$1,865,000.

The account's frozen
until we get a notarized release

stating that they accept
our findings
of a tax delinquency.

A notarized release
signed by whom?

Mode O'Day's sole shareholder,
Mr. Sydney Markham.

Once we get it, it takes
a couple of weeks to process.

Until then,
the account's frozen

like winter in Siberia.

I explained all of this
to Mr. Markham.

You spoke to him?

Yes, twice.
He even came in.

He was so insistent
to clear up the problem.

If only they were all
like that.

Is this Mr. Markham?

Yes.

GOREN:
He thought he had the perfect
place to hide his money

but he didn't count on
the Internal Revenue Service.

Neither did Al Capone.

We still have some time.

He has to phony up some ID
for the notary

and then there's
the turnaround time for the IRS.

Two weeks.
If we haven't found him
by then

we're not letting
that money go.

We can stall for a few days

but the minute he picks up
our scent, he'll scoot.

You got your
work cut out.

What's the plan?

- Engage his ego.
- Oh.

GOREN:
He was a confidence man
with too much confidence.

He overestimated
his own charisma

and died a fool.

Is that good for you, Tom?

Perfect.
Thanks, Bobby.

That Santini
from The Ledger?

Yeah. Don't worry.
I mentioned your name.

(chuckles)

I'm going jogging.

What's wrong?

What do you care
what they think?

It's done.
You get that
stupid paper signed

you come back
to Rio with me

and I'll make you
forget these people.

Where's your phone?

Here.

I'll get you some food
on the way back, okay?

Yes, I would like to place
an international call

person-to-person,
and the number is 212-555-0109.

Yes, New York.

Tom Santini.

My name is Dennis Dupont.

SANTINI:
He said he was very much alive.

He wouldn't tell me
where he was

but, uh, the operator said

the call originated
from a cell phone prefix

from Rio de Janeiro.

What else did he say?

He didn't consider
himself a criminal.

He was on a holy mission
to cure the rich of their greed.

He was very
funny about it.

What's funny is we've had
half a dozen people call

claiming to be Dennis Dupont.

Really?

This guy had a French accent.

They all had
French accents.

Quote me.
"Detective Goren says
that Dennis Dupont is dead."

Done.
It'll be in
tomorrow's paper.

(phone ringings)

Goren.

DIDIER (on phone):
Detective Goren, pleasure
to put the voice to the name.

Who's this?

This is the man you call Dupont.

You're going to have to do
better than that.

I get a lot of crank calls.

It's a shame what they did
to my friend Felix.

They killed him so brutally.

And so, Mr. Dupont, or do you
want to tell me your real name?

Dupont seems to open
so many doors.

Not this one.

I'm going to hang up now,
whatever-your-name-is.

Wait, wait, wait... why not?

There's no intimacy
without trust.

My name is Didier.

A common enough name.

Common name
for an uncommon beginning.

You were an orphan,
isn't that right?

No, my parents were alive,
but unable to care for me.

It's a very different thing.

If they were dead,
they'd have had a better excuse.

Hey, what was it like
being in an orphanage

with all those kids
nobody wanted?

It must have been hard
to be special.

I was special.

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

Maybe you're special now

but back then you were
abandoned.

You were a ward of the state

just like thousands
of other poor kids.

I was not poor.

I was only in an orphanage
a very short time.

Didier, you don't have
to be ashamed.

I am not ashamed.

I can't believe
we're even talking about this.

Well, we can talk about
anything you like.

Uh, let's talk about...

how far you've come

considering you were raised

in some state orphanage
with bad food

bad hygiene, abuse--
was there a lot of abuse?

I told you,
I was not raised there.

The authorities in my canton
returned me to my parents.

I'm sure your parents
are impressed

with everything
that you've accomplished.

Or maybe they don't care.

This is intolerable.

I don't how you people make a
living out of sheer stupidity.

You made a mistake about me,
Mr. Goren.

That's all I wanted
to let you know.

Do we have the fingerprints
for Mr. Dupont over there?

What's up?

I just got a call
from our "dead Frenchman."

He said his canton

gave him back to his parents.

Cantons are the equivalent
of states.

He's not French; he's Swiss.

The Swiss police
got a hit on the prints.

Didier Foucault, 33,
aliases up the wazoo.

Convictions for fraud, check
kiting, no record of violence.

Last stretch
was seven years ago.

He served six months.

Swiss faxed us
everything they had

on Foucault's
early years.

Being Swiss, it probably
includes his dirty nappies.

GOREN:
Contrary to what he told us,
he was in an orphanage

run by nuns from age four to 15.

He was never adopted.

His mother was a prostitute.

He had medical problems
right through his childhood.

That's good, but we
still have to find him.

Well, ten to one,
he'll call back.

He has something
to prove to me now.

Ten to one?

I've taken him on before,
Mr. Carver.

I'm down 18 bucks.

From Doctor Steven Pitt...

"Orphans live with a perpetual
sense of shame.

"Some overcompensate
through achievement

"some mollify their pain
through substance abuse

"and some invent
complex fantasies

"with over-idealized parents.

"Taken to an extreme,
these individuals develop

"into pseudo-logia fantastica--
impostors

"who, when confronted
with evidence of their fraud

"erupt in a rage

"and will go to any length
to persuade their audience

that their fantasy is true."

He'll call.

EAMES:
He could be using an alias.

Leonard Roche-foucault...

Goren, line four.

I'll call you back.

Goren.

DIDIER (on phone):
Detective Goren, hello.

(Goren snaps fingers)

I wanted to apologize

for losing my temper
during our last conversation.

Hey, I understand.

Your childhood
is a sore subject.

I don't take it personally.

I'm not the kind of person
who loses his temper.

I was raised with good manners.

You mean at the orphanage?

Who raised you--
civil servants, priests, nuns?

What did you do when you wanted
somebody to hold you?

To comfort you?

Hmm, Didier?

Did you make yourself sick

and run to the nurse?

What are you talking about?

Kids like you--

abandoned kids--
are hypochondriac.

This is where you have it
all wrong.

My upbringing taught me
how to survive.

And you survived by pretending
to be other people.

I survived because
I was superior.

I am always three steps ahead.

Well, these people
that you conned

you weren't three steps
ahead of them.

You got out
by the skin of your teeth.

But I got out.

Only by killing Felix Perez.

You screwed up, Didier.

You think what you want.

I think you're living up
to your breeding.

Yeah, I'll bet your parents

were crooks or drug addicts.

I'll be your dad
pimped out your mom.

Stupid cop!
You have no idea.
No idea.

I have an idea

you're terrified
of going to prison.

It'd be like going back
to the orphanage.

Prison is nothing.

Of course,
you've been to prison.

Another mistake
made by idiots like you.

But I didn't care...
it was a vacation.

You know how long it took me
to get special privileges
in prison?

Less than 24 hours.

What's a special privilege
in a prison?

A tick-infested pillow?

Fresh fruit, caipirinhas,
women... anything I wanted.

I had the guards
like a palm in a fist.

Drugs?

Drugs... see how you think?

You see the pedestrian level
of your intellect?

That's the trouble
with you police

so many guns, so little brains.

You think you'd make
a good detective?

I think I'd make
the very best detective.

Do you know why?

I understand human nature.

You might profit from such
a study, Detective Goren.

Caipirinhas.

He was in prison in Brazil.

Two years ago
he served eight months

for credit card fraud in Brazil.

He was arrested at a Rio airport

with a girlfriend, Simone
DaSilva, a Brazilian national.

The cell phone from Rio.

We figure
he's here with her.

We're calling the hotels

looking for a registration
under her name.

Our boy's been keeping
himself busy.

The IRS got the notarized
release from him.

We're pulling in the notary
for a verification...
(door opens)

HARLAND:
We found the girl.

Soho East, room 1216.

I'll handle the warrants.

Is that you?

I was just going down
to the bar.

Put your hands
on the back of your head!

Sit down.
Sit down!

I've got her.

You have bitters and soda?

Trying to quit drinking.

Maybe happy hour
isn't the best place for you.

Well, at least I can smoke.

Nice to put a face to a voice.

You have the wrong man.

I don't think so.

JUDGE:
Bail is denied. Next case.

CLERK:
People v. Didier Foucault.

Murder in the second degree.

Larceny in the first degree.

How do you plead,
Mr. Foucault?

Not guilty, sir.

People on bail?

We want him remanded
to custody, Your Honor.

Your Honor, my client's
friends stand ready

to put up bail
to insure his appearance.

These so-called friends
are his victims, Your Honor.

He doesn't care
about their money.

He was arrested with
a ticket for Brazil

and passports bearing
three different identities.

Now, if there ever was
a flight risk, he's it.

Thank you, Mr. Carver.
Bail is denied.

The defendant
is remanded to custody

pending trial.

Next case.

CLERK:
Docket #4604.

People v. Christine Chin.

One count child endangerment.

Try telling them
they're victims.

Don't tell me you feel
sorry for this guy?

No...

Someone to teach you
how to ride a bike.

Two people that think
you're special.

It makes a difference.

Some people get
by on a lot less.

They shouldn't have to.