All language subtitles for 01x10_Bye.Bye.Birdie_Instinct

My name is Dylan Reinhart.
Not too long ago,

I was an operative in the CIA
known as Agent Reinhart.

When I left the Agency
and started teaching,

I became Professor Reinhart.

I wrote a book about abnormal behavior

and criminals, which was so successful

a serial killer used it
as clues for his murders.

That's when the
New York Police Department

reached out to me to help catch him.

Which I did, so they hired me,

and I became Consultant Reinhart.

So now I'm working with this woman,

Detective Lizzie Needham

of the homicide division,
catching killers.

Looks like I need a new name.

Don't they call you Professor Psychopath?

Hello?

Celia?

Is anybody here?

Oh, my God. Celia!

I think it's great you want to start

making healthy, organic dinners.

I think it's great you're
willing to make them with me.

And, you know, since they
give you all the ingredients,

it's-it's...

- you know, it's super easy, too.
- Mmm.

Call from Joan Ross.

Let it go to voice mail.

Why? It's Joan.

Yes, but it's 9:00.

She should be relaxing and having fun.

Like us.

Yeah.

Besides, she'll want
to press me on my book,

and I'm just not in the mood
for a lecture

when I tell her
I'm only on... page three.

Mm-hmm.

I'm thinking about
giving back my advance.

Is this about your father?

No.

Maybe.

Yes.

He's wrong, okay?

You have more than one book in you.

Get him out of your head.

You know what would help? Food.

How much longer until dinner is ready?

You mean the meal that's supposed

to take 15 minutes to make?

At least another hour.

Call from Elizabeth Needham.

Oh.

Hey, Lizzie. What are you doing
still at work?

We've been assigned a new case...
an attempted murder.

Oh. Um, text me the address.

I'm on my way.

We're cooking dinner,
but between us, it's probably

a good time to leave.

Seriously, how much more chopping?

Everything okay over there?

Well, I hope so, because I'm leaving.

I'll pick up dinner on the way.

Uh...

Oh, don't worry about food.

I got you covered.

You sure?

Yep, you're good.

See you soon.

Great.

This is you having me covered?

You brought me stale, hard doughnuts.

Some people would call them scones,

and they'd be happy.

Uh, and some people would
be wrong and hungry.

You owe me dinner.

And possibly dental work.

- Hey.
- Here you go.

Thanks.

Yeah, I just arrived.
We were supposed to have dinner.

Ms. Baxter?

I'm Detective Needham.

This is my partner, Dr. Reinhart.

Hello.

We'd like to ask you a couple

of questions if you're up to it.

Ask away. The sooner I give my statement,

the sooner you can find
this freak and put him in jail.

Any idea who attacked you?

A monster.

I was, uh...

I was at my computer.

I got stuck in the last chapter,

which is where I've been
for way too long.

I needed a break,
so I went to the kitchen

to get something to drink.

And that's when I saw him.

He was, um...

He was wearing a strange animal mask

and a... what seemed to be a...

an expensive suit.

It was well tailored.

He, um... he was holding a knife.

A hunting knife.

But you don't know who he was

- or why he attacked you?
- No.

Any enemies?

Other than late-night carbs

and most forms of exercise, no.

Do you have a security system?

Yeah, I-I have a smart home.

My alarm should have been working.

I tried to get away from him.

So, other than the suit,

the mask and the knife, what else can you

tell us about your assailant?

He was, uh, five-ten.

Fit.

About 175 pounds.

If it weren't for Geoff,
I-I would be dead.

- He's your publisher?
- No.

He's the publisher
who wants my next book,

Birdie in Bermuda.

It was his arrival
that scared off my attacker.

Why do you look so familiar?

What... what is your name again?

Dylan Reinhart.

You wrote Freaks.

You're that abnormal psych professor

who now consults for the NYPD.

Uh, yeah. That's me.

I loved your book.

And you write
the Birdie Baines Mysteries.

- You read them?
- Well, I will now.

What else have you written

besides Freaks?

Uh... just that.

Well, I thought you had
another book coming out.

So did I.

Oh, no. Writer's block?

- Not exactly.
- Found a partial shoe print

- outside the garden.
- Great.

A plastic mold

- is being taken right now.
- Great.

We also found this.

Oh, my God. That's the knife.

Oh, one more question.

You keep referring
to your attacker as a man.

How are you so sure it was a he?

- Because he spoke to me.
- What did he say?

He said, "Bye-bye, Birdie."

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

You're gonna be doing
a couple laps around the block

- with this stuff, okay? Grade A.
- Oh.

- You know, lot of caffeine.
- Oh. Oh, cool.

- Yeah. Yeah.
- Thank you, Arthur.

- Oh, uh, actually, my name's Pete.
- Pete?

- Yeah.
- Oh. It should be Arthur.

- "Arthur." I look like an Arthur to you?
- Well, I... Yeah.

Really?

Joan?

Oh. See ya.

I gotta talk to you.

So, Celia Baxter called me.

Oh. Well, I did sing your praises.

Well, she wants me to edit her next book.

We're meeting for lunch on Friday.

- That's nice.
- It's not nice at all.

It's a miracle,
considering my history with her.

You know, I passed on her first book.

Look, I cannot rep you, okay?

I hate the beginning,

I hate the middle, and I hate the end.

And I-I have to tell you,
this title, I hate it, too.

It's boring, Celia.

Oh, God. I know how harsh you can be.

No, I wasn't harsh. I was honest.

You know, and who knew
she was going to go on

to become an airport best seller?

Well, not you.

Yeah, clearly not.
But I want to say thank you.

Because you're here,
and you're saving lives,

and you get me new clients.

You're welcome. I actually thought

you were trying to avoid me,

you know, not talking about the new book

and everything, but...

What is this?

This tastes like somebody
ran it through a baby diaper.

What the hell? Arthur!

Oh, hell.

Honey, take this from me.

- Call me later.
- Okay.

- That's horrifying.
- Uh-huh.

Who's a fast reader?

- Not me.
- Nope. I'm busy.

- I can't read.
- Zack.

See if you can find a reason why anyone

would want to hurt Birdie
or her creator, Celia.

It may be someone delusional.

Someone who can't differentiate

between fiction and reality.

Someone who thinks Birdie's

sending them messages...

messages they don't want or like.

Here's a rendering of your perp.

I also checked the database
for crimes committed

by somebody wearing a weird mask

and a handmade suit,
but the database said,

"What are you, nuts?"

See if you can find anywhere

that sells these types of masks.

Sosa, anything on Celia's fan site?

Uh, some troll's upset the next
Birdie mystery is overdue,

but no one wants to murder her.

Any luck with the shoe print?

Yes. It's from a John Lobb collection.

An English loafer
worn by every wealthy man

in the tri-state area.

Along with a bespoke suit.

Hey.

If you put a mask on,

we could be talking about you.

His outfit contrasts
with the use of a mask,

yet still conveys a level
of sophistication and class.

Whoever attacked Celia is very
comfortable with themselves.

And very sick.

Hey, Needham. Great news.

- You got a lead on my perp?
- Charlie's been chosen

to be awarded the NYPD Medal of Honor

for his work on Op C-47.

Captain wants you to accept
on Charlie's behalf.

Wow.

Ceremony's on Saturday... plenty of time

- to write your speech.
- You kidding?

That's great news.
That's the highest order

- of recognition.
- Yeah, guys still talk

about the dent he made on the cartel,

how they won't even go back to the docks.

No one deserves it more than Charlie.

I'll never forget that night.

Oh.

DNA results are back.

Thanks, Harris. Uh...

One is a mystery, one is Celia Baxter's,

but there's a hit on the third.

A man named Ben Richfield.

I do know Ben Richfield.

He was my writing professor years ago.

Have you seen him recently?

Uh, actually, yes, I did.

I ran into him a while ago
at a coffee shop.

Which was weird after so many years.

He was, uh, rude.

Maybe even seemed a little jealous.

Well, his DNA was found on the knife.

We're on our way to talk to him now.

All right, I'm almost home.
Will you call me later?

I hope it's the first
of many conversations.

Me, too.

Why don't you want to accept
the award for Charlie?

I never...

I never said that.

No, but the pitch of your voice went up

when Harris mentioned it.

And then your eyes started
to dart back and forth.

Well, I've been doing that
since Shakespearean times.

You're upset and unnerved.

Something else is going on,
and I am concerned.

We're early for Richfield. Sit down.

The doctor is in session.

After Charlie died, I shut down.

My family thought it was shock or grief.

So did I, honestly.

And then a police shrink convinced me

that I had survivor's guilt.

But my guilt didn't go away.

It-it was mixed
with doubts and suspicion.

Suspicion about Charlie?

I'm the only one who feels this way.

And I hate myself for doubting him,

but that mission went so wrong so fast.

I guess I'm afraid...

Charlie might have been
playing both sides.

Or worse... that he was just plain dirty.

And now you may have to accept
an award on his behalf.

In public.

I can't lie.

Not to anyone, especially not my team.

I just need to know the truth.

I've put out some feelers
to see if I can find

Charlie's old criminal informant,

Rodrigo Salinas. He was
imbedded in the cartel,

and he was in the warehouse
when Charlie was killed.

But then he vanished.

If I can draw him out, maybe he'll...

tell me what really happened that night.

You sure that's wise?

He sounds like he could
be a dangerous guy.

Ben Richfield. He has arrived.

Bespoke suit, designer shoes.

Awards, trophies, posters.

He's very successful.

And very rude.

How long are we supposed to wait?

I don't know.

How long does it take
to do a phone interview

and have your nails buffed?

Did you notice he also
seems to like weird masks?

Mm-hmm.

Sorry to have kept you waiting,
but, uh...

I do have answers to your questions.

Ben does know Celia Walker.

She was a student of his years ago.

Has he seen her recently?

Uh, yeah. In a coffee shop
a couple of months ago.

Uh, he almost walked past her.

Oh, and he added that her book jackets

are really Photoshopped.

Mm-hmm. Does he know that Celia

was attacked in her home last night?

Uh, he didn't say.

- Where was he last night?
- At my desk.

I write from 6:00 to 12:00 every night.

This is well known.

He talks about it
extensively in his book,

Pen Like Ben.

Did you try to kill
Celia Baxter last night?

What did you tell them?

I-I didn't say anything.

Mr. Richfield, let's just
save us all a lot of time.

I need to see if you have
any cuts or scratches on you.

Would you mind rolling up
your sleeves, please?

Not without a warrant.

Now, would you excuse me?

Thank you for meeting me.

I leave for D.C. in 20 minutes.

What's the emergency?

Charlie Pavlik.

Your new partner's former partner

and fiancé.

You told me to stop digging.

Why the sudden curiosity?

Lizzie's started to question his actions

when they were undercover.

Also, you never stop digging.

You know me so well.

Tell me everything.

C-47 was one of the riskiest operations

ever attempted by the NYPD.

Charlie tried to infiltrate
a cartel run by Emilio Frantio,

one of the world's most
ruthless drug lords.

Is he connected to Rodrigo Salinas?

Charlie's informant? Yes.

Rodrigo was Emilio's
most trusted confidante.

Then you must know that Rodrigo
was an eyewitness that night.

Lizzie's determined
to find him, to talk to him.

I need you to find him first.

You're concerned about her safety.

No doubt there were
dangerous elements involved

in the operation that got Charlie killed.

Very dangerous.

But Rodrigo's gone to ground,
disappeared.

If I can't find him, no one can.

I'm calling on behalf of Gary.

I need to get a message to Rodrigo.

Hi.

Here's the thing about Ben.

He's quite clearly a narcissist.

And narcissists have
very dangerous personalities.

They are wound collectors.

A narcissist might hide his face

during a crime to protect himself,

but also he might want
the victim to see him.

Do you see why I'm perplexed?

Follow me. We'll get some answers.

Where were you, anyway?

Oh, I had a thing.
Um, where are we going?

Harris and Zack just caught a case.

A woman was killed two nights ago

by a masked intruder.

The night before Celia?

And the same M.O. as Celia?

Seems like it. Uh, she was found

this morning by her housekeeper. Oh.

Oh, Zack just sent security footage

from the crime scene.

Whoa.

Victim is Renata Pendell.
Stabbed 31 times.

M.E. said five of the wounds were fatal.

What about the neighbors?

Anyone hear anything?

No. We're still canvassing.

31 times.

That sort of brutal overkill

suggests Renata was targeted,
uh, subject of...

Careful.

...rage.

Wow. I can see why you're having trouble

getting started on your next book.

The angle of the wounds

suggests her attacker was on top of her.

Maybe the rage was fueled by impotence.

What better way to dominate

than to force your victim to face you?

If we're lucky, she scratched him

and we'll get some DNA.

So, if the DNA here is Ben's

and the mystery DNA found at Celia's

turns out to be Renata's...

Then we can place Ben at both
crime scenes and arrest him.

Hmm.

His name is Ben Richfield.

I think, yeah,

- that could be him.
- But you're not sure?

I tried not to pay too much attention,

but Renata's boyfriend was definitely

a well-dressed middle-aged dude.

Anything else you can tell us
about Renata?

Said she was a writer,

but she spent most
of her days at the gym.

Or shopping.

Thank you.

Sure.

Renata signed up for a writing seminar

with Ben Richfield's company
eight months ago.

We found a payment receipt,

along with a short story she wrote.

So two writers, both female,

both attacked within
48 hours of each other.

First Renata, then Celia.

Celia was published. Was Renata?

Not even a blog. But I was able
to unlock her phone.

A bunch of texts sent to
the same person, Ben Richfield.

"I know what you did to JF, SG and CB.

"And now you did it to me.

If you don't want the world
to know, we should talk."

CB could be Celia Baxter.

Thanks, Zack.

So, Renata was trying to
blackmail Ben Richfield?

Maybe Ben was trying
to kill people from his past.

People who knew something
damaging about him.

But what?

And who are JF and SG?

And are they even still alive?

I'll get a rush on the DNA.

I'll see what Celia knows.

I'm so sorry.

I-I don't know a Renata Pendell.

What about the texts Renata sent?

Well, um...

JF and SG could be
Julia Fleet and Siri Goodman.

The three of us took

an advanced writing seminar from Ben.

But that was years ago.

Maybe Ben's doing the same thing

to Renata in the present.

Any reason why Renata
would have blackmailed him?

Ben had a reputation

for stealing his students' ideas.

A fiction piece he wrote
for The New Yorker

was supposedly plagiarized from a piece

that Julia had written.

And there were rumors that he took

a treatment Siri had written,

changed the protagonist to a male

and sold it to Paramount.

Did he ever steal anything from you?

Kind of.

I was aware of his reputation,

so I wrote this crazy story
about bounty-hunting sisters

in a postapocalyptic world.

He took it and changed it
to one sexy vampire.

But that's the subject
of Ben's massive TV franchise.

Doesn't that bother you?

If someone stole one
of my ideas, if I had any...

I was never going to be happy
writing about vampires.

I write from my heart, not for my wallet.

I'm just... I'm just really stuck

on the ending of my last book.

Last?

Latest.

You could cut yourself some slack.

It can't be easy fighting cancer.

How...?

Unscented lotions.

Chemotherapy patients
are sensitive to smell.

Bowls of hard candies.

Radiation treatment leaves a
metallic taste in the mouth.

And I noticed the raised scar
from the chemotherapy

infusaport.

Scar's in the same place as my mom's was.

Uh, yeah, I'm, um... I'm fighting cancer.

My own mom was killed,

along with my father and sisters,

by a drunk driver.

I was an orphan at nine.

I'm dedicating this book to them.

It's probably another reason
why I'm stuck.

I want it to be perfect.

Maybe I can help.

I would love your

psychological insight
into the criminal mind.

Oh. Well, writers and criminals
often make the same mistake.

They get caught up
in the thrill of the action.

They go on too long.

We don't know when to quit.

Maybe Joan could help.

_

Hmm. Good news.

So, you received texts from Renata,

but you never met her?

I've never been to her building, either,

much less killed her.

You don't know a woman who
took one of your own courses?

If she took it.

Here's proof Renata was enrolled.

So what if she did?

He's a rich and prominent author.

An easy target for frustrated wannabes

with delusions of creativity

who want to claim he stole their ideas.

But I don't know her.

I don't know any Renata.

If you leak the contents
of those texts...

We'll have a defamation suit
on the commissioner's desk

before the sun goes down today.

We're done here.

Not so fast.

Ben's blood was confirmed

in both Renata's apartment
and Celia's home.

Solid evidence for both
the D.A. and a jury.

Ben Richfield, you're under arrest

for the murder of Renata Pendell

and the attempted murder of Celia Baxter.

Are you kidding me?

Right this way, sir.

_

Hola, Elizabeth.

I'm not wired.

I'm clean.

Who are you?

Rodrigo sent me.

He said you'd been reaching out.

Unfortunately, he's not
in a position to meet.

I want to know what happened
in the warehouse that night.

Tell me what you think happened.

And then I can tell you what Rodrigo saw.

Come on.

I don't have time for games.

Okay, fine. Fine.

It started out
like every mission... boring.

There was nothing to do but wait.

What about Pat and Joey?

Absolutely.

Yeah, but if we invite them,

then we have to invite
everyone we work with.

Well, so we'll invite everyone.

Why not?

We're only getting married once.

To each other, sure.

Oh, please. After everything
we've been through,

I'm not doing this again.

Heads up, everybody.

Target has arrived.

Ten-four.

I'll see you in ten.

Nine would be better.

The plan was simple.

Rodrigo would bring the dealer
and the heroin to a warehouse.

I'm in position.

Charlie would buy the drugs.

I got eyes on the target.

My partners and I
would then handle the arrest.

- Was Charlie wired?
- Too dangerous.

This was an eyes-only mission.

Looks like the deal is on.

Turn around.

All right?

You gotta head inside, man.

Something's wrong.

Don't do it, Charlie. No.

They're on the move.

Target's on the move.
I'm about to lose visual.

We lost him.

Needham, hold your position.

He's taking too long.

Something's wrong. I'm going in.

No.

Too dangerous.

You'll blow his cover,

get you both killed.

Don't go. Stay where you are.

Stand down. Backup is on the way.

Shots fired. Shots fired.

Officer down!

Hey, baby.

Hey, hey.

Oh, you idiot. You weren't
supposed to go in.

Why did you go in?

I'm sor... I'm sor...

No, I'm sorry.

Char-Charlie.

Charlie? Charlie!

Someone help us!

Please! Please! Can you hear me?!

Baby.

Baby, please.

Please, baby.

Please.

Please. Hey.

What happened?

Please.

Please, just tell me.

Two months before this operation,

an account was set up in the
Cayman Islands for Charlie.

Weekly deposits were made by the cartel.

And Charlie made significant withdrawals.

So Charlie was playing both sides?

Taking money from the dealers
and working for the cops?

And probably lying to both.

- Which is how he ended up...
- Okay.

Thank you.

Hey, Needham.

You okay?

Not really, no.

It wasn't the truth I wanted to hear,

but I guess it's the
truth I needed to hear.

- Excuse me?
- Oh, come on.

The agent you sent
to brief me this morning.

Don't worry, he was
very, very professional.

Didn't give you up, but I'm pretty sure

he wasn't sent by Rodrigo.

You sent him.

He's your super special secret friend.

- Lizzie, I...
- Please don't help me again.

If I need help...
and I won't... I'll ask.

You should know...

I don't want to talk about this anymore.

Uploaded Ben Richfield's
interrogation footage

for reevaluation.

You should have it.

What's going on?

When did we lose faith
in Ben as our perp?

I did last night.

The question of how Renata,
a writer with no job, uh, ever,

could afford a Tribeca
apartment started to bother me.

Maybe she's a trustafarian.

But Renata's apartment

was paid for by an LLC,
Carmichael Limited.

Turns out Bruce Carmichael
was Celia Baxter's husband.

They divorced nine years ago.

It was not amicable.

Renata was his mistress.

Wait, are you thinking Celia's ex

- was involved?
- Not likely.

He's in Maui this week
teaching a real estate seminar.

He has 200 alibis.

Did he know Ben?

Not likely, either.

But I can't stop thinking about Ben.

This is the surveillance footage
from Renata's apartment.

What am I missing here?

Yesterday, I almost bumped

into that light in the hallway. Remember?

Mm-hmm.

I'm about the same height as Ben.

And so he would possibly
have bumped into it, too.

But in the security footage,

the killer goes right under it.

Uh, so the killer is shorter than Ben.

Much shorter than Ben.

But if Renata's killer isn't Ben,

why was his blood at both crime scenes?

His DNA confirmed.

Unless it's not his blood.

Maybe it's synthetic blood.

What?

I put Ben and Celia's books
on my e-reader.

I know I read that term
in one of these books.

Oh, seriously? Synthetic blood?

I know it sounds like science fiction,

but since the victim
and our prime suspect

- are both writers...
- Oh. I got it.

27 mentions... "synthetic DNA."

Ben Richfield had one of his characters

plant fabricated DNA
at the scene of a crime

in order to frame
someone else for murder.

Could that even really happen?

Absolutely. It's not the stuff
of fiction at all anymore.

You'd first need a DNA
sample from a carrier...

say a strand of hair,
saliva from a toothbrush,

even a coffee cup.

Ben and Celia bumped into
each other at the coffee shop.

- Then what would you do?
- Let's say we've got

Dylan's DNA from a coffee cup.

We then get a blood sample
from you, Lizzie.

We centrifuge out all
your white blood cells.

To the remaining red cells,
we add Dylan's DNA.

Now, any time that blood
is tested, only Dylan's DNA

- will be found.
- How is that possible?

Because you can't find DNA
in red blood cells.

What can you tell us about the blood

found on the knife at Celia's?

The person who supplied this blood sample

was likely going through
chemo or radiation therapy.

Celia is being treated for cancer.

What are you thinking?

That it was Celia's blood?

Yeah, I think she planted it.

You're saying that she attacked herself?

You're saying she stabbed herself?

I think Celia was never
the victim of a violent attack.

I think she is the author
of this entire plot.

But why?

Listen to Ben's opening
paragraph in Fangs.

"Losing her parents and
sisters to a drunk driver

"when she was nine had
changed her life forever.

"Now, as she bit into his neck,

she knew it would reverse the pain."

Ben didn't just steal
one of Celia's stories.

He stole the greatest
tragedy of her life.

But why is Celia
committing these crimes now?

I don't think she's fighting cancer.

I think she's dying from it.

Celia spent her entire
life writing crime plots,

trying to find justice in fiction.

Now, as she faces death,

I think her need to avenge
those who wronged her

has resulted in some...

diabolical bucket list.

So she killed one enemy
and framed another for it.

Uh-huh. The professor who stole her past,

and the mistress who stole her future.

What if there are others?

You mean others who wronged her?

Yes. And Joan.

Joan refused to publish Celia.

Was blunt with her, as only Joan can be.

Damaged Celia's confidence.

Now, today, Joan is meeting with Celia,

and she's not picking up. Come on.

Joan, hey. It's so good to see you.

Come on in. Make yourself at home.

Oh, there's some ice tea in the fridge.

I made it special just for you.

Cool. See you in a second.

Just get my assistant on the phone.

That's all I'm asking for.

Fine.

Hello, assistant.

Listen, I need you
to do something for me.

I need you to move my 3:00 to 4:00,

my 4:00 to 5:00,

and my 5:00 to 6:00.

Actually, my 6:00 to never.

Yeah, I know who it is.

Look, I don't want to talk to her.

Can you do it?

So, you just handle it, okay?

All right, baby. Thank you. Bye.

Jeezy-peasy.

What the hell?

You couldn't just yell, "Drop the glass"?

You've got to answer your phone
when people call you.

- What?
- Ms. Ross.

Where's Celia?

Uh, upstairs, I guess.

What is going on?

- We came to save you.
- From lunch?

From Celia. She's very dangerous.

She may be trying to kill you.

- What?
- I know, I know.

It's complicated, but look,
just put that down.

I-I know. All I want you to do right now

is wait outside for the police,

and I will explain everything later.

- You're gonna be okay, okay?
- Okay.

Lizzie, are you okay?

I'm good.

"Dylan, thanks for helping me finish.

Now, go write your next book."

Look what I found.

Any sign of Celia?

I tossed the place. She's not here.

What's that?

The answers to this mystery.

Celia spent months planning her revenge.

Procuring the DNA from the coffee cup.

Acquiring the synthetic blood.

To place on Renata.

And getting her revenge.

Then she planted the evidence.

Wrote her own final chapter.

Staged the attack at her home.

And framed Ben.

It would be the best story she ever told.

And it all started with us.

The statement Celia

initially gave us was fiction.

- Oh, it was a complete and total lie.
- Hello?

Lucky for Joan,
you destroyed that ice tea.

It's her.

What was it?

Arsenic? Cyanide? Strychnine?

Yes.

Where are you?

- Put it on speaker.
- Hopefully nowhere you can find me.

Anyway, I want to say good-bye.

You weren't my friend long enough.

Is it true what they say about revenge?

Was it worth it?

It was.

Every last drop.

A wave of Dostoyevsky-like
remorse is about to hit you.

Oh, I already feel remorse.

Remorse that Ben isn't in jail.

Fangs was my best,

my most personal idea.

The only time the writing gods
spoke directly to me,

and he stole it.

Ruined it.

I had to wait years
for my next idea to come.

For the gods to speak to me again.

Birdie.

And now she won't get the life
she wants, either.

Celia, I am gonna hunt you down.

I'm starting the extradition
paperwork immediately.

Yes, I am sure you will catch up with me.

But I'll likely be dead.

I'm guessing I have weeks,
not months, left to live.

I want to wish you luck
on your next idea, Dylan.

I have a feeling you have
a lot more books to write.

I was lucky to know you,

and the world is lucky to have you.

I know you're angry, but calm down.

Calm down?

You had no right to go
and see Lizzie like that.

No right to ambush her like that.

- To test her like that.
- You're right.

Any information about Charlie should...

Wait. What did you...? Did you just...?

Admit that I was wrong?

Yes.

Disconcerting, isn't it?

Yes.

You never apologize.

I never make a mistake.

But I did. I assumed
if Charlie Pavlik was dirty,

Lizzie was, too.

Right.

How dirty was he?

Judge for yourself.

They're not the same.

Call your contact in the Caymans.

- What?
- Charlie did not have an account.

You're looking at notarized
signature cards, wire transfers.

That is not his handwriting
or his signature.

I'll find out who opened that account.

You'll find Rodrigo.

- Hey, guys.
- Hey, Doc. How are you?

I found Celia. She's running up a tab

at a resort in Bermuda.

- Lizzie...
- I don't care if

she's dying or not.
The woman is a criminal.

She shouldn't get away. I need people

who break the law to pay the price.

Charlie was not a dirty cop.

What?

But someone on your team was.

Someone who was in on it.

Someone who was by himself.

Sosa?

Something's wrong. I'm going in.

No. It's too dangerous.

You'll blow his cover,
get you both killed.

Don't go.

Stay where you are. Stand down.

Backup's on the way.

Sosa.

Shots fired. Shots fired.

Charlie wasn't saying, "I'm sorry."

It's So... So... So...

No, I'm sorry.

Char-Charlie.

Charlie? Charlie!

He was trying to say, "It's Sosa."

The Cayman account was Sosa's.

He set it up so that
he could take the money

and Charlie would take the fall.

Internal Affairs

and the DEA are on their way.

Son of a bitch!

- What the hell, Needham?
- Yeah, what's going on?

Back off!

You want to tell them, Sosa?

You want to tell them?

Tell them how you worked for the cartel?

How you killed Charlie?

Looked right at him and shot him twice.

Look at me. You look at me.

Rafael Sosa, you are under arrest

for murder, money laundering

and conspiracy.

You have the right

to spend the rest of your life in prison.

Thank you.

It's a privilege to be in this place

that honors so many
who have sacrificed so much.

Charlie would have loved this award.

And you would have loved Charlie.

He would have given an amazing speech.

He was a good man,

a great officer and a true partner.

He would have been moved,

humbled and grateful.

And he would have insisted

on sharing this award with his team.

He was always talking about you guys.

Oh, man, how he respected you.

How he loved you.

So, on behalf of Charles Pavlik,

I am honored and proud...

...so very proud to accept this award.

Thank you.

Oh, this is a surprise.

- You got a minute?
- Come on in.

Hey, Andy.

Hey, Lizzie.

Be right back.

I wanted to say thank you.

It's hard for me to ask for help.

I don't know if it's because
I feel I never need it

or I don't deserve it, but...

I have always done things on my own.

Until I met Charlie.

He made me realize...

and believe me, it wasn't easy
for either of us...

that asking for help
isn't a sign of weakness;

it's a sign of strength.

Well, I didn't ask,
but I needed help this week

in a big way, and you gave it to me.

Thank you.

Thank you for...

being my super special,
not so secret friend.

You know, sorrow in life

just creates more space for joy.

And you, Lizzie Needham,
have just created

a lot of space for joy in your life.

And I can't wait to see you embrace it

and to move on to the next
chapter of your life.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
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