Original subtitles

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.