All language subtitles for C.J.2001.S01E17.1080p.PCOK.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H264-Vialle_track3_[eng]

(ROCK 'N' ROLL
MUSIC PLAYING)

(BEEPING)

Nigel, have you seen Lily?
She's got some papers
I need to sign.

No, no,
I haven't seen her.

(BEEPING CONTINUES)

Are you about to
blow something up?

Maybe.

Well, don't.

Damn.

Lily, I've been
looking for you.
Do you have... Yeah.

You going somewhere?

Yes, Dr. Macy.
I'm off to visit
my brother in Mexico.

Just thought
I'd come by
and say adios.

I wish you'd told me
this sooner.

You signed
a vacation request form
two weeks ago.

Don't sweat it.

I can't expect you to remember
every little piece of paper
you initial, can I?

Let me help you.
I'm fine.

Lily, I hope this doesn't
have anything to do
with you and me.

I'm just gonna
get some sun

and lie on the beach

and get really
stinking drunk.

Have a lovely week,
Dr. Macy.

Lilita!
Hasta luegoand...

Oh, don't forget
my tequila.
Oh, yeah.

And remember,
no worm.

Of course.

Bye, Dr. C.

So you knew she was
going to Mexico?

Sure, she's only been
talking about it
for, like, a month, man.

Guess I've been
a little distracted.

And would this distraction
happen to answer to
the name of Maggie?

(PHONE RINGING)

(SIGHS)

Macy.

Yeah, she's here
right now.

Okay, I'll send her
right over.

Dispatch has got a decedent
in a motel on Columbus
just off the Skyway.

They requested
you personally.

Hooking up with your ex,
driving Lily out of
the country,

I'd say you got a lot of balls
in the air, there, Chief.

Body's getting
cold, Jordan.

Yeah, yeah.

(EXPLOSION)

(ALARM RINGING)

Woody.

Doc? Stuck together again.
Must be karma, huh?

Either that or you keep
telling dispatch to
specifically request me.

So what do we got?

Night maid came in,
saw this.

Lividity's consistent
with the position
of the body.

She's been dead
at least two hours.

Sheets are gone.

Someone must
have been cleaning up
after themselves.

Yeah, everything's
been wiped down.
Not a print in the house.

There is a big hole
by the phone jack right here.

Maid said it was
not there before.

Peeping Tom?

No. Doesn't go
all the way through.

So, Doc, what is she
telling you?

Possible strangulation.
Thumb marks on the neck.

Anyone see who was
in here with her?

The desk clerk said
she checked in alone,
registered under "Jane Smith."

You think
that's an alias?

(SIGHS)

No prints, no ID.
Heck, no clothes.

Oh, we did find these
on the dresser.

"Q Storage."

CHESTER: Quiet broad.
JORDAN: Oh? What did
she store in here?

CHESTER: Not much.
She just liked to
hang out in there.

WOODY: Who hangs out
in a storage facility?

None of
my business.

This woman,
she give you a name
when she rented the unit?

I got the card
back in the office.

Jane, uh...

Let me guess.
Smith?

Yeah, that's it.

Here we go.

(INDIAN-SOUNDING
POP MUSIC PLAYING)

Jeez, Louise.

Well! Looks like our girl
had herself a hobby.

(ROCK SONG PLAYING)

Whips and chains?

Yep.

(EXCLAIMS
IN DISGUST)

See, I understand
the whips,

but what does one do
with the chains, exactly?

Oh, they're more
for show,
cosmetic thing.

From what I hear!

Uh-huh.

Oh, hello.
Look at the minute
punctures on her thumb.

Definitely
ante-mortem.

Thumb screws.
She was tortured.

If we're assuming
she wasn't restrained,
she probably enjoyed it.

(SIGHS)

What?

Hmm? Oh, nothing.
I just realized how
tragically boring my life is.

(CAMERA CLICKS)

Look, it's not my problem
if you didn't receive them,

it's my problem
if I didn't send them.

And I sent them!

(STAMMERING)
Hold on.

May I help you?

No, I'll wait.
Finish your call.

Yeah.

Yes, I know they're
time-sensitive.
They're eggs.

(WHIRRING)

No, I do not have
a tracking number.

Can you put that
down, please?

Sorry.

Huh?

Yeah.

No.

Look, I'm gonna have
to call you back.

Okay, I'll do that.
You're welcome.

Jackass.

Some people, huh?

Can I help you,
Dr. Stiles?

I was hoping
we could talk.

About what?

Oh, I don't know,
the usual. The weather,

how cheery life is
here in the morgue.

What is this?

What is what?

You're a shrink.
Why do we need
to talk?

Oh, I don't know.
So you can feel better?

And who says I need
to feel better?

Doesn't everyone
need to feel better?

I feel fine!
No, you don't.

(SCOFFS)

You're trying
to provoke me.

Is it working?

You're not
a very good shrink.

(SCOFFS)
You got that right.

But, uh, you're
still stuck with me.

Now, they sent me
the incident report,
so we should talk.

How about
the conference room?

Say, uh, elevenish?

Sounds like
I don't have
a choice.

It does, doesn't it?

Doesn't matter because...
Whoa! Hey, uh, Doc,
I was looking for you.

Nigel.
Hey, Woodrow.
What it is, mate?

You guys
find anything
interesting?

Yeah, you could say that.
Thumb screws, toe screws,

and judging from her
collapsed larynx,

the death squeeze was
the last in a very long
line of squeezes.

Anything from
the rape kit?

No. No fluids,
no condom residue.

So we have a naked woman
who was choked and tortured
to death, but no sex.

Yeah, whatever
this was about,
it was not sex.

Any luck with
your prints?

Uh, yeah, RMV has her
as Marsha Schraber,

37, married,
address in the burbs.

Her husband
have an alibi?

He's gonna be
at the precinct
in an hour.

(HESITANTLY)
You could come down
and watch if you want.

I mean, if you're not
doing anything, or...

Yeah. No, cool.
I'll be there.

Okay! Great!

All right. Well, uh,
I'll see you then.

Yeah.

(SINGSONGING)
Jordan's got
a boyfriend!

Oh, you want to yank
on my pigtails, too, Nige?

'Cause I got
cheerleading practice.

Come on. That sweet
country innocence?
Those sparkling blue eyes?

I would chew him up
and spit him out!

Ah, now, that
sounds like fun.

(EXCLAIMS)

I can't believe
this is happening.

Anything you can tell me
about your wife

would really
help us out,
Mr. Schraber.

Any friends we
could talk to?

Marsha doesn't...

Didn't have friends.
She was a very private person.

You said you haven't
seen your wife in over a week,

but you never filed
a missing-persons report?

It wasn't the first
time she disappeared.

(HESITANTLY)
We weren't really
getting on very well.

Are you aware
your wife rented a unit
at Q Storage downtown?

No, I didn't
know that.

Then why were
your prints in it?

You...

You were in there.

Jerry,

(QUIETLY)
is there something
you want to tell me?

Marsha spent hours
on her laptop.

I got the feeling
she was making friends.

One day while she was out,
I tried to check
her correspondence,

but I tripped some
sort of security bug.

Next day, the computer
disappeared. So did she.

When did you go to
the storage facility?

I followed her there once,
but I didn't go in.

Then when she disappeared,
I was worried,

so two days ago,
I went back,

bribed the day man
to let me inside.
Marsha wasn't there.

But your prints were.

What were you
looking for?

I am a respected
attorney.

If there is any way
you could ensure

that none of this
could be made public...

Jerry.

You take something
out of that room?

The laptop.

I thought we were
supposed to talk.

Great! Let's talk.

Aren't you supposed
to ask me something?

Am I?

(SCOFFS)

And you actually
get paid for this.

You don't want
to be here, do you?

Oh, you are good.

Thanks.

So what? You want me
to talk about the incident?

Let's back up.

What caused
the incident?

A disagreement.

A disagreement with whom?
And about what?

Dr. Macy. A case.

Fantastic! Now we're
getting somewhere.

Feel better yet?

Okay.

Tell me about this case.

Last week, the police
brought in a dead boy,
Brian Kirsh.

They asked
for a blind autopsy.

STILES: What's that?

When the police think
that the M.E. might have to
eventually testify in a trial,

they don't tell us
anything on the admit.

It eliminates
potential bias.

This detective didn't tell me
under what circumstances
the boy was found.

He just wanted
the medical facts.

Cause of death,
method of death.

STILES: Anything striking
about Brian Kirsh?

Striking?

Well, what was
your first impression,
looking at his body?

Nothing.

I see lots of dead bodies.

First thing that pops
into your mind.

He was wearing
muddy sneakers.

The laces on one
were untied.

Go on.

I performed the autopsy
with Dr. Sanders.

The boy was
covered in bruises.

Arms,

legs,

chest,

back.

Some of them were a week old.
Others were more recent.

There was also considerable
damage to the head.

Doctor.

Yes?

What happened next?

The detective
was pushing for a quick
preliminary ruling.

And it was obvious
what had happened.

The cause of death
was repeated abuse.

Method: homicide.

What did you feel
making that determination?

I didn't feel anything.

Of course not.

NIGEL: So our girl spent
a lot of time surfing
the net, did she?

Uh, you might want
to be careful
what you push, there.

Her husband
said she may have
installed security.

So, what, you think
a middle-aged Hausfrau

could design a system
worthy of me?

FEMALE VOICE:
Welcome back, bitch.

If you're ready
to be punished,
please enter password.

(SCOFFS)
All righty, then!

Password, eh?

Righty-o, let's give
"dominatrix" a try,
shall we?

(STAMMERING)
You uh, may not
want to do that.

(SINISTER LAUGHTER)

Okay, this doesn't
look good.

FEMALE VOICE: Warning.
Unauthorized user.

A tapeworm will be
employed in 30 seconds.

Tapeworm?
What the hell's
a tapeworm?

It's a self-manifesting
virus designed to eat
the hard drive.

In 30 seconds,
this thing's gonna be
about as useful

as a toaster that
does not make toast.

Oh, what do you know about
self-manifesting viruses?

Hey, there are
computers in Wisconsin.
Maybe if you had listened...

Oh, I suppose you
could do better, then?

Hey, if you
hadn't messed up
and typed "dominatrix..."

I barely touched it!
What are you...

You guys, you can
arm-wrestle later.
Woody, just get in there!

Be my guest.
Excuse me.

Okay. Let's see
what we can do here.

Oh, she is
a smart one, all right.

Okey-doke.
Ten seconds.

No, no, no, no, no.

All right, let's see
how you like this.

You broke it.
I didn't break it.

Did, too.
Did not.

Did, too!
Did not!

Did, too!
Password accepted.

Let's play.

We're in.

What's that?
Uh, "mydeath.jpg."

Okay, it's a file
created a week ago.

I think it's
a compressed
digital photo.

(INDIAN-SOUNDING
POP MUSIC PLAYING)

Want to tell me
how a dead woman

got a photo
of her own murder scene
onto her computer

a week before she died?

(SINGSONGING SOFTLY)
Woody.

Time for school.

Five more
minutes, Mama.

Mama? I haven't heard
that one in a while.

Hey. I must have
fallen asleep.

I brought you coffee.
Just the way you like it.

Extra cream
and six sugars.

Sugar's good for you,
you know.

Mmm!

Oh, jeez!

(WOODY HUMMING TO HIMSELF)

(WHISPERS) Ah.

Oh, uh, do you mind?

Oh! No! No.

So, uh, you figure out
how Marsha predicted
her own death?

I did a pixel count
on that digital photo.

It's bogus.
Cut-and-paste job.

She probably posed for it
herself, played dead
for whatever reason.

Something kinky is afoot,
that's for sure.

Hey, what's this?

Oh, phone records
from a private cellular
line in the laptop.

I traced every website
Marsha visited.

Looks like there's
only one.

How the hell do you
stare at a website
for four hours a day?

Interactive website.

I took a quick
peek myself.

Webcam,
fantasy fulfillment
kind of stuff.

Pretty good place
to escape.

Oh, and get this.

It's based right here
in Boston.

Lucky us!

WOODY:
"S-triple-X-T-C.com."

Gee, I was expecting
something...

Dirtier? Welcome to
the new millennium, Wood.

White collar meets
spiked collar.

Good afternoon.
May I help you?

Hey, there. We're from...

Los Angeles.

We're in the industry
out there.

My name's Nina LeVeaux
and this is my partner,
Dale...

O'Bone.

Our assistant called you
about setting up a tour?

I'm sorry, I don't
see anything here.

May I ask what this
is regarding?

Damn! We were hoping
to speak to somebody

about setting up
a West Coast
franchise office.

It looks like we
brought our checkbook
for nothing, Dale.

Uh, yeah, Nina.

Well, I'm sure Mr. Little,
our Chief Operating Officer,

can free himself up
for a tour. One moment.

Excuse us.
Mmm-hmm?

(WHISPERS)
What are you doing?

What, do you think they're
gonna talk to us with you
whipping out your badge?

Believe me,
I'm not whipping
anything out around here.

LITTLE: We're very proud
of our little operation here.

Anything in particular
you'd be interested
in seeing?

It'd be great
if you could
give us an idea

as to how things work
around here, Mr. Little.

Of course. Behind each
of these doors is one
of our characters.

Characters?

All our clients have
different tastes.

The character plays a role,
catering to each particular
client's fantasy.

What you see on these
screens is exactly
what the client sees.

The client types in a desire
and the character acts it out.

I see Dale's already taken
an interest in Mary Catherine,
our bad school girl.

(CHUCKLES
SELF-CONSCIOUSLY)

Actually, she doesn't seem
to be with a client right now,

so why don't I give you
a little demonstration?

She sees
what I'm typing

on a monitor below
her webcam.

"What happens when you
forget your homework,
Mary Catherine?"

(SQUEALS)

As you can see,
we can pretty much cater
to any desire here.

We have foot fetishes,
squashing fantasies,
male-female cross-dressing.

Who's that?

That's The Punisher.

He's just about
to take a break, actually.
Would you like to meet him?

Very much.

Excellent. Meantime,
I'll take Dale down

and we'll have
a little chat with
Mary Catherine.

If that's okay
with you, Dale?

Yes, I'd like that.

You're late.

Sorry.

I had to talk a jumper
off a rooftop.

Yeah? And how
did that go?

Oh, he'll be arriving
here shortly.

Hope we have better luck
with you, eh, Doctor?

(STILES CHUCKLES)

So, now, tell me,

what made you decide to
become a Medical Examiner?

(SCOFFS)
What? Excuse me?

Well, I've always
been fascinated

by why you guys do
what you do.

I mean, of all
the medical sciences,

you choose
to cut up corpses.

Death doesn't bother me.
It's natural.

So there was no
defining moment?

I thought we were talking
about Brian Kirsh.

Okay,

let's talk about
Brian Kirsh.

You ruled it homicide
as a result of abuse.
Now, what happened next?

It was the night after
I filed the prelim report.

Dr. Macy asked
if I could join him
in his office.

He wasn't alone.

Doctor, please have a seat.
This is Mr. and Mrs. Kirsh,
Brian's parents.

I'm just now
familiarizing myself
with the case,

and they were hoping
you might be able
to help them out.

Of course.

Police stopped
by our house
a few hours ago.

They were asking
some very, uh,
unsettling questions.

We were hoping you might
be able to tell us why.

Mr. Kirsh, I found a series
of bruises on your son.

There was also
a trauma to his head.

Of course there was.
He was always getting hurt
with his condition. We tried.

His condition?
Brian was autistic.

(INCREDULOUSLY)
You didn't know that?

They didn't tell you that?
How can they not tell you?

Doctor, our son had
a seizure disorder.

This morning, he was
in the back yard, playing.

I only left him alone

for a minute!

I came back,
he was in the midst
of a grand mal.

By the time the paramedics
got there...

I ran a full
tox screen on Brian.

I didn't find
any anti-seizure
medication.

The side effects
were too severe.

Obviously not as severe
as the grand mal.

Are you accusing us
of killing our son?
Okay.

Who the hell
do you think you are?

Who the hell
do you think you are?

Mrs. Kirsh, please.
I understand how tragic
this loss must be,

but let's try not to
jump to conclusions.

I'm not the one
jumping to conclusions!

This new information
definitely warrants
a closer look at your son.

I'll conduct
an examination myself
and we'll speak again.

Do you resent
Dr. Macy for
second-guessing you?

Dr. Macy is my boss.

But that doesn't
answer the question.

It's not my place
to question
Dr. Macy's judgment.

So you still believe
the parents were responsible
for the boy's death.

I don't have an opinion
one way or another.
It's not my job...

Now, that's getting
a bit tired.

Just between us,

were they
or weren't they?

The trauma
to the head is...

Autistics can
self-inflict injuries
to the head

in any number
of ways.

The bruises on his chest
were in a hand-shaped
pattern...

Could have been
the paramedics
administering CPR.

I just had a
feeling, all right?

I guess that answers
my question.

Hi.

You must be
The Punisher.

Oh! Hey.

It's Herb, actually.

"The Punisher" is just
a stage name.

You must be the lady
from California.

Mr. Little said you had
a couple of questions.

Just have one.

This woman's handle
was "PunishMe."

I get the feeling
you two were acquainted.

Oh, jeez.

Marsha.

Who are you?

Someone
who wants to find out
what happened to her.

(SIGHS)

She was one
of my best clients.

Three, four-hour sessions.

I didn't mind it at first
when she started making
weird requests,

but then a few weeks ago,
it just started
getting weirder.

What did she
want you to do?

Well, you know,
most of my clients,

they just want me
to wave the whip around,
talk mean to them.

Honestly, I'm just
in the fantasy
business here.

I don't actually
do anything.

She wanted it for real.

Then why did you agree
to meet with her?

Oh, I didn't
meet with her.

You recognized her
from the photo, Herb.

(WHISPERING) This place
doesn't pay that well, see,

so I get a little extra
on the side,

putting people
of certain tastes
together.

I met her in a diner,
gave her a couple of
handles.

I don't know
their real names,

but they were guys who could
make her fantasies come true.

She'd been
exchanging emails with
one of these guys for weeks.

It was perfect.

They were gonna meet.

Man.

I can't believe
she really meant it.

Meant what?

She wanted to die.

Hey, how was
Mary Catherine?

Swell. We discussed
the finer points of
spanking techniques,

so this trip
wasn't a complete
waste of time.

"DirtyBirdy"
and "Sickboy23"?

Screen names.

Our leather-clad friend
put Marsha in touch
with these two.

I'm guessing one of them
got a little carried away.

Okay, assuming you're right,
how are we supposed to
catch the right one?

Why, red-handed,
of course.

Traditionally,
when you invite someone
over to dinner,

you're supposed
to do the cooking.

Fine, then you come over here
and write the bait
to these two sickos.

Putting yourself out there
to lure these guys from
behind their computers.

I don't know
how you talked me
into this.

Because you failed
to come up with
a better idea.

Okay, what do you
think of this?

"Sickboy23,
got your name
from The Punisher.

"Let's not play games.

"Games are for the weak.

"And patience is for those
who lack conviction.

"I've been very bad.

"I've been so bad,
I don't deserve to live.

"We should meet."

I think you're
too good at this.

Takes a thief, Wood.

"Naughty."
What?

"I've been so naughty,
I don't deserve to live."

Got a better ring to it.

I think I'm starting
to rub off on you, farm boy.

Mmm!

(CLEARS THROAT)

You're in
big trouble, mister.

Maggie.

You stood me up,
Garret.

(STAMMERING) Oh, God.
Look, I'm so sorry.
I must have lost track of...

It's not
the eating alone
that I mind so much.

I'm used to that.

But when I make a date

to have sex with someone,

I expect them
to be punctual.

Look, I'll make it up
to you, all right?

Tomorrow,
I'll leave early.

Yeah, promises,
promises.
What are you doing?

What do you think?
Well...

You're drawing
the blinds to...

Oh.

Do you realize
that in 15 years
of marriage,

we never once

had sex outside
of the bedroom.

Come on, Maggie,
there's still people here.
I'm the chief now.

Oh!

Is that supposed to arouse me,
that you're the chief?

Maggie, I can't.

(COYLY)
Well, we both know
that's not true.

You're seducing me.
Am I?

Yes.
Is it working?

Maybe.

Hmm.

Well,

how about now?

Yeah.

Well, you can't
win 'em all.

(SIGHS)

They'll answer
sooner or later.

I'll leave the computer on.
If I hear anything,
I'll let you know.

Thanks for dinner.

And for letting me
talk you into another
harebrained scheme.

It wasn't that
harebrained.

(CHIMES)

The laptop.

Sounds like someone
just took the bait.

(READING)

"Would you like
to view?"

Here goes nothing.

(ROCK 'N' ROLL
MUSIC PLAYING)

I don't like
the look of it.

Oh, come on, Dad. At least
it's on your own turf.

She's a civilian,
you know.

Using her as bait
to catch some
sick pervert...

All due respect,
Mr. Cavanaugh,
this was not my idea.

Of course it wasn't
your idea.

Hey, you mind letting me
ride shotgun on your op?

I'd appreciate
the help.

What's your plan?

Okay, our two suspects
are scheduled to meet
Jordan an hour apart.

How will you know
what they look like?
We don't.

I told them I'd be carrying
a Marquis de Sade biography

and they're supposed
to bring a red rose.

As soon as we make them
as one of our marks,

I'm gonna have one of my guys
run the plates on the car
they drive up in.

Guy looks dirty
or anything comes up funky,
we are gonna move in.

I am not gonna put you
in a situation where
you are in danger.

I can take care
of myself, cowboy.
See you guys at 5:00.

Was she always
this way?

Always.

(MOANING)

If you keep talking,

I'm gonna have to start
that elevator again.

(MOANS)

Maggie, we have to stop.
I'm on duty.

I'll come by tonight,
I promise.

(GROANS)

Fine.

But if you're a no-show,

there will be severe
consequences.

Infernal contraption.

Maybe it's stuck.

Then why is the little
light on, then?

(ELEVATOR BELL RINGS)

Trey, Nigel.

BOTH: Dr. Macy.

Garret! Just the man
I was looking for.

How goes it,
Howard?

Hey, are you
all right?

Fantastic. Why?

Well, you look
a bit flushed.

It's a little warm
in here, I guess.

Hey,

you've been getting action,
haven't you?

Now, what would
make you say that?

Oh, I suppose
it's my keen ability

to look deep
into the hearts of men.

And the fact
that your fly's undone.

Is it that cute intake girl
you were doting on

the last time
I harangued you?

What was her name?
Phyllis?

Lily.

And I was not doting.

You mean you blew it?

And what was your
excuse this time?
Work?

Fear of intimacy?

Was there something
you wanted, Howard?

Oh, you're no fun.

That's what
they tell me.

Well, if you won't talk
about your dysfunctional
romantic life,

perhaps we could have a word
regarding Dr. Vijay...

Bug.

Right!

Let's have a word
regarding Bug.

(SLOW ROCK PLAYING)

It's 8:00.
Where is she?

Making her entrance.

Hot damn!

(GASPS)

(STUTTERING) I mean,
you have a very lovely
daughter, Mr. Cavanaugh.

Very smart.

(SOFTLY)
Showtime, boys.

We have our
first mark.

Five-six,
wire-rimmed glasses,
blue shirt.

Let's run his plates.

You must be
Evangeline.

And you must be,
uh, DirtyBirdy.

How's about I just
call you Burt?

(CHORTLES)

This guy's
a Poindexter.

Are you okay, Burt?

Sure.

(STUTTERING)
Just a little nervous.

Jeez, that's no good.

I mean, if we're
both nervous, then

no one's in control.

Oh. Well,

not so nervous
that I can't be
in control.

I mean, if that's
what you want.

Is that what you want?

That's what I want.

You know,
usually I have to spend
a lot of time online

before I can get a woman
to agree to meet me.

But you seemed very eager
for a submissive...

You haven't done
this before, have you?

No.

Not in real life,
I mean.

But I could.

I got an ID.
Felix Lowe.

A couple busts
for indecent exposure,
nothing major.

This guy's a guppy.
Throw him back in.

No offense, Burt,
but I get the feeling that

you're a real
big talker online,

but in real life,
you're a sweetheart.

I could spank you
if you want.

(WOODY STIFLING LAUGHTER)

Good night, Burt.

So what happened?

You saw the
incident report.

Yes, but you make
everything so officious.

I'd like to hear it
from the horse's mouth.

What happened
after you met with
Brian Kirsh's parents?

Based on their information,
I took a look
at the boy myself,

and I didn't find anything
that suggested abuse
in light of the autism,

so I tossed the initial report
and listed cause of death
as undetermined.

So you overruled Bug.

Yeah.

And how did he take it?

Not well.

You're putting murderers
back on the street.

Bug, this wasn't
a homicide.

Well, how can you
be so sure?

Look, it's not your fault
the police manipulated
your findings

by not giving you
the relevant information.

(SCOFFS)

I was not manipulated.

My findings were
completely unbiased.

I wish I could say
the same for you.

Excuse me?

The parents have
impaired your judgment.

You know, we can't
allow ourselves to
become emotional

about these things,
Dr. Macy.

We can't let these things
affect our objectivity.

It seems to me
I'm not the one having
objectivity issues.

Forget it.
Hold it. Just...

Wait, wait, wait.
Just a second.
Bug.

What's going on here?

Please, just get out
of my way, Dr. Macy.

This isn't like you.
Please, get out
of my way.

No, I'm not gonna
get out of your way.

Now, is there
something about this
you're not telling me?

Get out of my way!

STILES: He pushed you.
MACY: Yeah.

Now, why do you
think he did that?

I don't know.
You're the shrink.

Maybe he has a history
of abuse himself.

Well, maybe.

These things are not usually
that black and white.

I mean, he clearly identifies
with this dead boy on
some level he's not aware of.

But, uh,

I'll get there.

I always do, you know.

(BILLIARD BALLS CLATTERING)

Looks like
bachelor number two
is a no-show.

I'm getting a soda.

Hey there,
Evangeline.

Sorry, I forgot
to bring my rose.

Hi. Uh, you must be...

No need for names.
No need for questions.

How about you speak
when spoken to?

What the hell's going on?
How did we miss this guy?

Where are we going?

Someplace with
a little more privacy.

A positive ID
on the second mark.

Entered the bar
approximately 40 minutes ago.

Hey, wait.

I need to know exactly
what's gonna happen to me.

Want to know what's
gonna happen to you?

Who do you think you are
to ask me what I'm gonna do?

I'm sorry.

Oh, you're gonna be sorry.
You think this is a game?

Now, I know
what you want.

You set up this cute
little blind date
in this cute little bar

so you'd feel safe.

But you don't want
to feel safe, do you?

No,

I don't.

Good.

Then let's go.

Okay.

Take him down.
Take him down now!

(EXCLAIMS IN SURPRISE)
Get down! Down!

You all right?
Yeah.

Come here.

Sickboy just finished
a stretch for sexual assault.

Got out four days ago.

You didn't waste any time,
did you, big guy?

Come on,
get him out of here.

OFFICER: All right, now,
let's go. Come on.

Looks like we got
our guy, Jordan.

Yeah, there's
only one problem.

Marsha was emailing Sickboy
for three weeks.

Now, unless that guy
had a computer in his cell,
he wasn't writing to her.

Someone else was.

WOODY: Okay, Daryl,

explain to me why you're
not trying to help yourself
out here.

Because I spoke
to your warden,

and I know
you didn't have any
access to the Net,

You know,
the ones that said
you wanted to kill her.

You know what
a safety word is?

What? No, I don't
know what a...

I'm not talking to you.

Talking to her.

You know what a safety
word is, bitch?

No. Why don't you
tell me,

bitch?

It's a time out.

You give it to her
just before you start
to play.

It gets too intense,
she can always stop it.

She can stop it
any time.

Charming.
But what does this
have to do with Marsha?

Hers was
"tap dance."

When I had my hands
around her throat,

I watched her lips

real close.

But she wanted to die.

She only had
to say it once.

If she did,
I would have
let her go.

Why should I
believe you, Daryl?

Those were the rules.

Whose rules?

The man's rules.

What man?

The man with the plan.
The man who gave her to me.

The man
who was watching.

Anything good on TV,
Mr. Little?

It's a little late
to discuss franchising,
isn't it,

Ms. LeVeaux,
was it?

It's never too late
to discuss murder,

Sickboy23, was it?

Your online alias.

You wrote out the words and
Daryl acted out the fantasy.

(CHUCKLING)
The Internet is a
very confusing place.

It's too much information.
You obviously have gotten
lost somewhere along the way.

Maybe.

But a removed
T1 Internet line

leaves an awful big hole
in a hotel room.

You were watching.

That's a very interesting
theory, Ms. LeVeaux.

Actually, it's Cavanaugh.

Medical Examiner's Office.

Ha. Well, one might ask
why the police aren't here
instead of you.

Gone rogue, have we?

Nope. They're outside,
actually.

I just wanted
a little quality time
before they arrest you.

Arrest me
for what, exactly?

Exchanging e-mails
with that woman
who wanted to die?

Try putting her in a room
with a convicted criminal

and then watching him
kill her.

They both acted
of their own free will.

I merely facilitated
the process.

Oh, I can hardly wait
to hear you explain that
to a jury.

Well, I'll take my chances,
because all I'm guilty of
is playing a little Cyrano.

It's still murder.

Satisfying people's darkest
and most personal desires

is what I do, Ms. Cavanaugh.

Now, how can that
be murder?

I don't buy it.
Seriously. I feel better.

You want to know
what I think?
No.

I think you only are
pretending to feel better.

Oh, really?

I think there's something
you want to get off
your chest,

but you're not sure
what it is.

It's an itch
you can't scratch,

and it's
driving you crazy.

Nothing is
driving me crazy.

Do I look crazy?

Oh, definitely.

(SCOFFS)

Look, this itch,
I don't know what it is,

but I suppose
you're gonna tell me.

Now, that wouldn't be
very cathartic, would it?

Well, how am I
supposed to know...

You know, I was looking
over the, uh, photos
from the autopsy report.

What?
Brian Kirsh.

I was looking over
the photos you took,

and I recalled
your first impression
when they brought him in.

Do you remember
what you told me?

No.
Yes, you do.

I don't remember.

Sneakers.

He was wearing sneakers.

Fresh mud, shoelaces
with one untied.

You know what the weather
was like on the day
Brian Kirsh died?

What does that
have to do...
It was sunny.

Not a cloud in the sky.

So?

You remembered
fresh mud
on his sneakers,

but there wasn't any mud.

(SOFTLY) No.

Who was wearing
the muddy sneakers?

I remembered it wrong.
I made a mistake.

No, you didn't.
Who was it?

I don't know.

Who was wearing
the muddy sneakers, Bug?

My brother.

My little brother.

Tell me.

We were the only ones home.

Where were your parents?

They were working.
They were always working.

And it was raining
outside?

No one can watch
a little kid constantly.

It's impossible. I mean,

you can try,
but it's impossible
to watch him constantly.

It's always that five minutes
you think that they're
watching TV

that they can slip
out the front door.

You don't even think
they'd want to go out,

with it raining so hard.

But then you hear
the horn blast

and the screech of tires
on wet concrete,

(CLICKS TONGUE)

and you can feel it.

You know
you made a mistake.

You were just a kid.

He was my responsibility.

You say that,

but you don't mean it.

Whose responsibility
was he, really?

(WHISPERS) Theirs.

Louder.

Theirs. My parents.

They blamed me.

Why did they do that to me?
I was just a little kid.
Why...

Why did they look
at me like that?

Sounds like
a lot of anger,

with no place
to put it.

I bet it would have
felt great

to tell your parents
how unfair it was

to saddle you with
that responsibility.

But you couldn't punish
your own parents,

because grief is
an unpunishable offense.

So I punished
someone else instead.

(SNORTS)

I'm not supposed to, um,

hug you now, am I?

No.

(CHUCKLES)

How about
we just talk?

Why is it
that I can spend days
working on a guy

and get nowhere,

and you can mosey on
into a room

and in two minutes
get a confession?

I have a way
with the sick
and twisted.

Woman has
a nice house
in the burbs,

successful husband,
good job,

yet she still
wants some stranger
to kill her for kicks.

I don't get it.

Why?

There is no why.
People are sick.
End of story.

Sweep it
under the rug
and move on.

Wouldn't it be great
if you actually
believed that?

Good night, Doc.

Night, Woody.

(SLOW ROCK PLAYING)

I didn't know
you smoked cigars.

I haven't in years,
but tonight I was
in the mood for one.

I hope I'm not
interrupting.

No. No. Just...

Just thinking.

I remember
the first time
I had one of these.

You get to a certain
point in your life,

you've already
done everything
for the first time,

nothing's new anymore.

I've already heard
my first blues record,

tasted my first
piece of chocolate,

had my first true love.

I'm allergic
to chocolate.

Violently.
Yeah.

Dr. Macy,
I wanted to...

Apology accepted.

This job,

it's hard sometimes.

Yes, it is.