Original subtitles

sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ Addic7ed.com ~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♪ I can't let go ♪

♪ I feel ♪

- Good morning. - Harry.

Sit down and have some breakfast.

- You look like shit. - Thanks.

So do you. You sleep in that dress?

Game just broke up. I won 30k.

I was in the zone. I almost called and cancelled.

Congrats. Why didn't you?

- Coffee? - Please.

I'm good.

I'm going back to Vegas a little sooner than expected.

- What's going on? - Maddie was in a car accident last night.

- What? - She's fine.

She's just a little dinged up by the airbag.

- Airbag? - Shook up more than anything,

But I'm going home to deal with it.

- Who was driving? - Friend of Maddie's.

He has his license, the cops took a report, he's insured.

Was he drinking? Were they?

She says they weren't, and I believe her,

and that it was the other driver's fault.

Did she go to the E.R., get checked out?

Look, Harry, kids are stupid. They do stupid things, as you well know.

- Luckily, everybody's okay. - I'm not okay!

How about some parental supervision?

- Where the hell was Reggie? - At work.

God, I knew you'd act like this.

- You were here "in the zone. " Nice. - Don't be an asshole.

You were in your own private zone our whole marriage.

- Reggie and I are not absentee parents. - Really?

Fuck you. You know, you're the poster boy for absentee parent.

- I got to get to the airport. - Okay, I'll drive over on the weekend, talk to her.

Don't be ridiculous.

Jesus Christ, Eleanor. She could've been killed.

I am handling this, Harry. If you want to take a more active role

in our daughter's life, we can discuss that later.

Bosch.

I didn't think it would be so hard.

You've been through this, Harry. Give me some advice.

What are we talking about, Waits? What do you want?

My mother died... yesterday.

And I see her lying there,

and I think about that moment...

the longest trip we ever take.

- Sorry for your loss. - She's gonna rot like a piece of fruit,

and there's... there's nothing I can do about it.

You understand?

This fucking situation that I find myself in...

Maybe I can help.

Oh, a-are you gonna bury her for me?

No, thanks. That... That's a son's duty.

Why don't you put her with the others?

- The others? - Your other victims.

You don't steal shovels, you collect souls, remember?

Can't she rest in peace with the others...

Wherever you put them?

Do you not understand anything? I loved her.

Bury her with them, those fucking whores?

Are you fucking kidding?!

Sorry. Forget I mentioned it.

Oh. You're sorry.

- What's on your agenda today? - Well, the usual.

And a sit-down with Isaiah Ott.

I thought you loathed the man.

I do... and he me.

If there's one thing the right Reverend Isaiah Ott

desires more than any other in this world,

it's his fat thumb on the carotid artery of the LAPD.

- So, why the sit-down? - We're gonna come

to an agreement, the good reverend and I...

- a meeting of the minds. - About what?

- What can Ott do for you? - It's not what he can do for me...

- but what he can do for Richard o'Shea. - "Rick" o'Shea? Really?

New mayor, new chief of police.

I see. Don't forget...

just because a man wears his collar turned 'round

doesn't mean he can be trusted.

Tell me something I don't know.

How's it going?

Are you familiar with the term "needle in a haystack"?

- It's there somewhere. - And what makes you so sure?

I spent last night looking at my MacLaren file

and found a pattern, a recurring notation... A-C 102.

A-C 102?

It's a code they use when they put you in solitary.

It'll help us find Waits' real name.

- They put kids in solitary? For what? - Infractions, attitude, disrespect.

That was you, I'm betting.

Oh, I gave them a lot of lip, ran away all the time, too...

- other stuff. - Other stuff? Like what?

Fighting mostly. I was mad 24/7.

I'd kick your ass if you bumped me in the lunch line

or talked shit about my mother.

So, I spent a lot of time in the trunk... so did Waits.

If that notation's not in the file, put it aside.

Harry, it's a fuckin' youth home.

There's gonna be more files with the notation than without it

- Don't be negative. It's a start. - Yeah, what she said.

Hilarious.

Ignore that bullshit, Harry.

Tech unit pinged Waits' phone... Rosedale Cemetery.

Waits' mother passed. That's why he called me.

Have the task force send a unit over, get any video.

Ping his phone every 30 minutes.

- Yeah, and maybe we get lucky. - Maybe I win the lottery.

- You got to buy a ticket first. - Is that how that works?

Jesper. Says he's got something to show us on Delacroix.

Okay.

- Hey. How you doing, Jules? - Like I got tit-punched by a gorilla.

You're all right, Brasher.

- Sarge. - Hang on a second.

Yeah, Brasher, captain wants to see you A.S.A.P.

Yeah.

What's the prognosis?

Doctor says I could be back on active duty in two to three weeks.

- And what do you say? - Three weeks sounds like a long time.

I could use 10 more like you.

But instead of having 10 more,

I'm down one because your story's bullshit, isn't it, Brasher?

- Have you ready our statement? - I don't have access to the file, sir.

It wouldn't matter if Bosch had backed your story.

You think the forensics came back in your favor?

You think they found GSR on his hands?

- I don't know. - You do. They didn't.

Everything they found supports Stokes' version of what happened, not yours.

Maybe I should have my league rep here, sir.

I'm trying to save your job, but you have to meet me halfway.

How do I do that?

Detective Bosch initiated a sexual relationship with you

against department policy. You need to report that

- relationship and file a complaint. - A complaint?

You felt pressured into the relationship

because he was your superior... coerced.

You thought it would hurt your career if you didn't comply.

Well, technically, he wasn't my superior,

- and I didn't feel pressured. - It was an inappropriate relationship

according to department policy, was it not?

How does filing a harassment complaint

undermine his statement about what happened in the garage?

It doesn't. It makes it irrelevant.

No one downtown wants to see a sex scandal in the papers,

especially involving Bosch.

File the complaint, withdraw your false statement,

and command buries your third unsat like it never happened.

But he didn't coerce me. It was mutual.

He fucked you, Brasher.

Every which way, Bosch fucked you...

fucked you right out of your career with the LAPD.

You gonna let that stand?

Can I think about it?

Don't take too long.

- Meantime, you're back on light duty. - Thank you, captain.

- Chief Irving. - Reverend.

Can I give you the 10⢠tour?

Oh, I'm familiar with this church.

I used to come here every Sunday with my parents.

Of course. I forget you're from the community.

I don't.

- What can I do for you, chief? - Well, actually,

I think there's something we can do for each other.

- I'm listening. - You could use your considerable

charisma and your standing in the community

to support Richard o'Shea's candidacy for mayor.

I thought you and he were mortal enemies.

Alliances shift. One has to be...

flexible in this world.

Well, assuming the quid pro quo is what I think it is,

what would I get in return from you

and the new mayor for my support?

Assuming you deliver, what would you want in return, reverend?

A halt to gestapo tactics here on the streets of South L.A.,

to certain policing policies, to racial profiling.

We are hardly the gestapo,

and overheated, hateful rhetoric doesn't help.

My apologies.

I only mean to say that it is in both our interests to avoid

anything resembling a Ferguson, Missouri, situation here in L.A.

- The last thing any of us want. - So we understand each other?

It appears so.

Jesper, what's so important, you couldn't just

- send over a report? - I wanted to show you something.

I was doing a final log on the Delacroix evidence.

The backpack had skateboard straps, right?

There was no skateboard found at the grave site.

But there was one collected from Nicholas Trent's house.

We dismissed Trent as a suspect.

No evidence connects him to Arthur, and he moved to

that neighborhood two years after the kid was killed.

I was just looking to see if we missed anything

before I sent it all to the property division.

So, just to be thorough, I thought I'd check to see

if poly-fibers from the backpack straps

might've got caught in the wheel assemblies.

I didn't find any fiber... but I found this.

This kind of board was fancy back in the day.

Most kids would've put their mark on it.

- "A.D. 1993. " - Arthur Delacroix.

God damn.

'93... the year before he died.

- Nicholas Trent had the kid's board. - Good work, Jesper.

- We need photos of all this. - Will do.

- Uh, Detective Bosch? - Yeah.

I'll be right out.

- I think I fucked up on the Waits' case. - How so?

I got a call here in the lab right after Waits was arrested.

Guy said he was from the D.A.'s office, sounded totally legit.

He said you guys hadn't turned in an evidence report yet

and he needed to know what was found at the grave site.

He couldn't get a hold of you, and... he was up against a deadline.

- Jesus Christ. - I'm really sorry.

- He sounded so fucking real. - You told Waits about the backpack?

What was inside? Told him about the starfish?

That was his "get out of jail free" card.

You have any idea what you did?

I do, and I should've known better.

Do you want me to resign?

- What did he want? - To confess.

Confess? To what?

Waits got ahold of a burner at pitchess, called Jesper,

- conned him out of the starfish. - Stupid fuck!

- You kicked his ass? - Didn't have to.

Well, bright side,

at least he solved the Laurel Canyon case for us.

- How you figure? - Clear as day... Trent had the board.

He took it from Arthur after he killed him.

Come on, open your eyes, partner.

We were right about Trent before we were wrong.

He lived with it all those years, waited for that knock on the door.

One day, it came, we knocked on his door, and he killed himself.

Then go ahead and write it up.

- Damn. You're back. - I start tomorrow.

- What did Pounds want? - Bosch's head on a stick.

Sounds proper.

Said the only way I can stay on the force

is to file a sexual-harassment complaint.

After what he did to you, do it.

He screwed you, Brasher, and betrayed all of us.

Now, you want to be a cop,

you got to lay him out one way or another.

His story stands, you're done anyway.

- Pyrrhic victory. - What?

Well, even if it works, mess up my career as much as his.

- How do you figure? - Blows back on me, my reputation.

I'll be stuck on patrol forever.

I like the street.

But I know... college girl like you, a climber.

- You got bigger ambitions. - Yeah. Much bigger.

Jerry, anything new on Waits?

Task force says a camera in Hollywood caught a minivan

last night that matches the one we're looking for.

- Get the plates? - No plates... bad angle.

- Shit. - Yeah.

Where you going? Harry.

- Julia, can we talk? - Are you fucking kidding me?

- You're in uniform. - Very observant.

You're not a detective for nothing.

Yeah, Harry, I'm back...

pending the outcome of the disciplinary process.

I'm sure you're just chomping

- at the bit over that. - You should go home.

- Excuse me? - Take leave until this is over.

- Why the hell should I do that? - Because it's the honorable thing to do.

If you don't have the balls to man up, admit your mistake, tell the truth,

at least have the decency to not be here fronting your phony story.

Who the fuck are you to talk about balls and honorable?

I have every right to be here. And talk about manning up...

Stokes assaulted you, and you released him, and I'm the pussy?

And then he attacks me, and you don't have the balls to back me?

Not what happened. You screwed up.

Fuck you. I'm embarrassed I ever took you seriously.

You got quite the way with the ladies there, Harry.

Ain't it the truth?

Reverend Ott paid me a visit, Irv...

- out of the blue, off the record. - What did he want?

Seems the reverend has a dream...

a vision of me in the mayor's office, you at the chief's desk.

He's ready to throw me his whole hearted support,

rally the troops, deliver the vote in his community.

And all he wants in return?

Certain long-overdue reforms.

Actually, he wants a little more than that.

He wants something for himself.

So the city will throw him some grant money for his outreach programs.

He wants a seat on the police commission.

- That's not what we talked about. - I'm sure it wasn't.

Fuck Ott. That's extortion. No, no, no.

And he's not the only preacher in South L.A.

Oh... we're committed now.

You want to get on the wrong side of this guy?

You want him working for the incumbent?

I sure as hell don't. You started the ball rolling, Irv.

- Where the hell did you expect it to go? - Oh, I won't forget this.

We'll get even later.

This is a big galloping gift horse

coming down the stretch for both of us.

Let's back a winner.

Let's get started. Mr. Trent, you know

you have no obligation to speak to me today?

Well, if that's so,

then why are you sitting in my living room?

Have you ever seen any unusual activity on the hillside?

Not really. Kids used to play up there.

- You watched them play? - What are you insinuating?

- Nothing at all, sir. - No, I didn't watch them play.

I stayed away from kids after my trouble.

I'd see them go up the hill when I walked my dog.

Any kids in particular?

There were always kids around.

Uh, they used to go up there and smoke cigarettes.

We... We were always worried that they would set the whole hillside on fire.

- We? - The residents.

My neighbors and I.

- Dr.Guyot. - Detective Bosch.

What brings you back here, detective? Are you making progress?

Fits and starts, doctor. Fits and starts.

So, Nicholas Trent told us that, when he first moved here,

there were always kids playing on the street and up on the hill.

Yes. Quieter now.

Not so many children on the street these days.

- You remember any names of those kids? - 20 years ago.

I was not a young man even then.

You think your murdered boy might've been one of them?

Possibly. Once in a while.

Maybe he had friends on this street.

- Have you spoken to the Blaylocks? - I don't recognize that name

from the neighborhood canvass we did.

They moved to Tonopah a few years back when he retired.

They lived down the block, where the Hutters live now.

My guess would be that most of the children who played on the

street over the years were their foster children... and their friends.

Any chance you have an address for the Blaylocks?

I get a Christmas card from them every year without fail.

Let me get one.

- I'll be right back. - Thanks.

I talked to the Hutters.

And I called Mrs. Blaylock in Tonopah to follow up.

She didn't remember Arthur

and had nothing but kind words for Nicholas Trent.

Did you get the names of the foster children?

She didn't mention she had any kids, foster or otherwise.

You're making it seem like I dropped the ball.

What... What was I supposed to do,

drive up there and knock on their door?

Tonopah is a six-hour drive.

I'll call you back, Jerry.

- Mr. Blaylock? - That's me.

I, uh, saw you waiting out there.

My name's Harry Bosch. I'm a detective... LAPD.

I was wondering if I could speak to you and your wife

about a case I'm working.

Well, I'm not sure my wife's up right now.

- How long you been out there waiting? - Since about 4:00.

Get some coffee.

- If it's warm, I'll take it. - Well, come on in.

Take it black? Every cop I've ever known takes it black.

- Black's great. - Mm.

- You know a lot of cops? - Uh, when we lived in L.A., I did.

Worked 30 years for city fire, retired as a station commander.

- What division? - Hollywood. Homicide.

I'll be damned. I worked six years out of station 27,

right... right across the wall from you guys.

- It's a small world. - It sure is.

Have a seat. I'll, uh... I'll go get Audrey.

Thank you.

She'll be right out. So, uh, what's this about?

I'm, uh, working a case in your old neighborhood...

Wonderland.

We're contacting people who lived there in '94.

Well, we lived there back then, but I don't

remember any murder cases from the neighborhood.

- A detective already called us about this. - Really? When?

It was before Christmas. You were out hiking.

- Well, you didn't tell me. - Wasn't worth telling.

My partner called. I'm just following up.

- I don't believe you. - Excuse me?

You don't drive through the night to knock on our

door at dawn because you're following up on a call.

You're gonna try to pin something on one of our kids.

Mrs. Blaylock, I can assure you

I'm not in the business of pinning anything on anyone.

Well, I still don't believe you. I know what he wants.

Audrey, please. Just let the man ask his questions.

I understand you took in a number of foster children

when you lived on Wonderland.

Yes, we did. We had a total of...

- What? 36? - 38.

38 kids over the years...

- Sometimes as many as 6 at a time. - Good for you.

Last month, a boy's bones were found

up on the hill above Wonderland.

He was murdered and buried there 20 years ago.

His name was Arthur Delacroix.

Does that name mean anything to either of you?

No. Audrey?

No, and I told that to the detective that called.

I told him we didn't know anything about this dead boy.

Well, I was just wondering if it might've been possible

he could've been friends with one of your kids.

This is what I mean.

You're just looking for something that fits your needs.

These kids come from tough backgrounds,

they weren't all angels when they came to us.

Now you're gonna pick one of them to blame this murder on.

I'd like you both to take a look at this photo.

It was taken in your carport on Wonderland Avenue.

I think I took this picture. I gave copies to the kids.

Do you recognize anyone in that photo?

Well, that's Johnny, and, uh,

these are his friends from his old neighborhood.

- Johnny? - Johnny Stokes.

He was with us for a couple of years.

Uh, that's his photograph there on the wall.

And you say these kids in the picture,

they were friends of Johnny's from his old neighborhood?

We encouraged Johnny to keep in touch with them, have them over.

We used to have an empty pool in the backyard...

it was too much upkeep. They used to love to use it to skate in.

This boy... Do you remember him?

Uh... yeah, the... the face. I don't know his real name.

Uh, they called him "Goof," "Goofy. "

- You know why? - He would put the wrong foot

forward on the skateboard, and the kids called that "Goofy footing."

- That boy was Arthur Delacroix. - The murdered boy?

Oh, my. I'm so sorry.

- Do you recognize this? - Huh.

Audrey, doesn't that look like the board Johnny had?

Maybe.

- Any idea how he came by it? - It was so long ago.

He won it in a contest. He was very proud of that board.

It got left behind when they sent him to Sylmar.

Do you know what happened to it?

When we moved out here, we sold all the kids'

stuff we had to a neighbor who lived up the street.

Remember a name... the neighbor?

Nick... Nick Trent.

He worked in movies... you know, props and stuff.

It was Stokes.

We had him, I let him go.

Where are you? What are you talking about?

- I just left Tonopah. - Tonopah?

Johnny Stokes was one of the Blaylocks' foster kids.

- You're shitting me. - Stokes lived with the Blaylocks in '94.

Arthur visited him up there. He knew him from the old neighborhood.

You're saying Stokes killed Arthur?

No doubt in my mind.

But why, Harry? What the fuck? They were just kids.

The skateboard. I think Arthur had it, Stokes wanted it.

Jesus Christ! How'd Trent come to have it?

The Blaylocks sold Trent their kids' stuff when they moved.

Let me get communications to put out a broadcast.

This isn't gonna go over very well with rank and file.

No, it's on me. I'll handle it.

Bosch.

Harry, Waits is on his cell in an alley on Hollywood.

Set up a perimeter, five blocks in every direction...

No one in or out. I want a bird in the air asap.

I'm five minutes away.

Show six-William-twenty-one responding.

Six-Adam-thirty-seven,

we're code six at Hollywood and Gower.

Requesting an R.A. unit for a female approximately 30 years old...

unconscious and not breathing.

Female? What?

This is six-William-twenty-one. Please confirm victim is a female.

Affirmative. Female, approximately 30 years old.

- What's going on? - 187, Harry. A female.

Female? Why do we think it's Waits?

Tech says his phone is still pinging.

It's a fucked-up scene.

- Looks staged. - How so?

Area around the dumpster has been cleaned up, swept...

- and those. - The victim's?

She's wearing hers. Those are extra.

- Found his phone? - Not yet.

- What about her phone? - No sign of it.

- I.D.? - Monica Reynolds.

One of the coppers I.D.'d her as a local pro.

Jesus.

What is it? What the fuck? You all right?

Just give me a second.

What is it? What's the problem?

This is for me.

- This is all for my benefit. - What?

He did this to get at me.

Take a look.

- This is what happened to my mother. - Jesus. Harry.

I've seen the murder book. Waits killed this woman

the same way my mother was murdered, staged the same scene.

- How did he know about all this? - Nate Tyler.

Her murder was in all the papers... "Hooker killed in Hollywood. "

Tyler's hit piece directed Waits to all the old articles.

- This poor woman. - Go home, Harry. I'll handle this.

- Get the feeling he's watching us? - Who? Waits?

- Want me to answer that? - I got it.

You get my message?

You think you're clever?

Bury her, detective. She was a whore like your mother.

Not like mine. Mine was a saint.

Now, that's something we don't have in common.

Enjoy it while you can, Waits. We're closing in.

I know you're nearby. I can smell you.

You sound tired, detective.

I know I am. This last one put up quite a fight.

I'll be in touch.

He's close.

- Help you? - Detective Bosch, Hollywood homicide.

I'm looking for a murder book.

- You know who's working it? - Not active.

Taking a shot cold case might have pulled the book.

I wouldn't be here this time of night if it wasn't important.

- You got a name or a D.R. number? - Marjorie Lowe, '79.

You'll be asleep when I get back.

Sweet dreams, Harry.

- I love you. - I love you, too.

I'll see you in the morning.

_

sync & correction by f1nc0 ~ Addic7ed.com ~