All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.S06E15.Encore.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

In the criminal
justice system

the people are represented
by two separate
yet equally important groups,

the police
who investigate crime

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

Four lamb chops,
three martinis,
key lime pie...

Boys' night out.
Leave me alone.

And a Montecristo
I can still smell
on your breath.

So don't inhale.

Pick up the pace, Byron.

Oh, why?
So I can live
an extra hour?

If you don't mind.

Byron, look!

Well, he's doing
something. What...

Hey, what's up?

Look! Look!
Here! Here!

Hey!

Be careful!

A man! He ran that way.
He was attacking
that woman.

I'll take her.

This is 22.
We've got a 10-54
on the south circular.

Female down.
Suspect on foot.

He went over there,
Central Park West.

I couldn't...
I got one of his gloves...

Come on, relax. Relax.
Central, this 22.
We need a bus rush!

Hang in there, buddy.
Hang tough.

He just sat there,
talking to me, with that
knife sticking in him

until the ambulance showed.

Said the perp
hopped a wall to the CPW.

Did he get
a look at him?

Up close and personal.

5'8". Dark coat.
Black hair. Hispanic.

He pulled off
one of the guy's gloves
in the scuffle.

It's bagged for CSU.

Heroes.

Hey, who is she?

Jane Doe, no ID,
just a house key
in her sock.

What, like a wallet
would have
slowed her down?

Yeah. She doesn't look good.
There's blood
all over her head

and a bloody rock found
on the ground next to her.

Rape?No time.

He was pulling down
her sweats when
the Bickersons spotted him.

She fell on the rock?

It was no accident.
He hit her and
must've meant to stun her.

How is she?

Dead.

Oops!

An hour ago?
I was taking my break
in the basement.

Who was on the door?
Nobody.

Thanks.
All right.

Nothing.

Yeah. This guy was
helping Mrs. Bronsky
with her groceries. 11D.

Hey! Hey!
Is this about
what's going on in the park?

You're looking
for some guy that jumped
over the wall?

Yeah.

Black coat?
Dark hair?

You saw him?
Yeah.

Hispanic.
Hauling ass.

He nearly got hit
by a cab.

Which way did he run?
Down.

Into the subway.

Oh, great. So he lives uptown
or he lives downtown.

Thanks.

The Mayor down there yet?

White female jogger
gets attacked
in Central Park.

It happens once a year,
and it's always
the crime of the century.

Anything at the scene?

Camera trucks. Profaci
and Newman are showing
her picture to other joggers.

Hey, Detective!
I got something here
for you.

You want me to carry you?
Or you want to carry me?

Now, the jogger tackled
your perp here. Here's his
footprint, stopping hard.

Size 9, maybe a Reebok.
While he's down,
he pulls out his knife.

How do you know
he didn't have it
out already?

Because when he stuck
his gloved hand
into his pocket to get it,

he pulled some
coins out, too.

They're on top
of the footprints.

We got any fingerprints
on the coins?

Worth checking.

Check this one.
A Colombian 20-peso piece.

I guess he kills people
and doesn't like to pay
a buck 50 for the subway.

The same size
as the new token?

Yeah.
It's the slug du jour.

Our guy ran
into the subway.

Well, maybe he still had
one of the pesos on him.

He would have to take off
his glove to stick it
in the turnstile.

The transit authority emptied
the turnstiles at that station
at our request.

You find
a Colombian coin
in there?

No, I found three.

This one and this one
had good prints, and
one of them is in our system.

Mr. Francis Murphy.

"Larceny, larceny,
criminal possession..."
No violence, no sex crimes.

Maybe he decided
to try something new.

And he's black.
Our guy isn't.

What about the other stuff?

Well, all the coins
on the ground
had nothing but mud.

The gloves,
common dime-store variety.

Only prints on the knife
are the victim's.

But I don't think
the killer's too happy
he left it behind.

Why? Got an inscription
from Grandma?

It's a Mercer.

Engraved brass handle.
Must've set him back
at least $200.

Maybe two dozen stores
in the city carry them.

Thanks.
Well, we got a sketch
from our jogger.

You want to hit
a couple of knife stores?

Let's start
with Francis Murphy.

Maybe our guy
got his coin from him.

Murphy might know him.

We don't even know
if our guy used
that coin, though.

Well, there's two dozen
knife stores. There's only
one Francis Murphy.

Don't move.

You want to take
my picture?

I don't want
that moke spotting me.

He doesn't head to work
in the next 10 minutes,

he violates his parole.

Looks like
a fine upstanding citizen.

The parole board thought so.

I don't know what the hell
they were thinking.

You baby-sit
Francis Murphy
like this?

Murphy? He's priority B.
Doesn't kill people.

Doesn't hit people
on the head.

Yeah? Well, we think
he knows people who do.

Is he into something?
I should know.

You'll be the first.
Where do we find him?

In theory, Roosevelt's Ribs.
Working the fire pit.

Odds that
he's actually there?
Two in five.

Lunch time, perfect.

Thanks.

Murphy?
Well, he wouldn't
pay attention.

Charred a whole hog
before he got it right.

So you let him go?

Yeah.

Plenty of ex-cons
where he come from.

You make a habit
of employing convicts?

Being that
I'm one myself, yeah.
But I don't take no crap.

They do the job
or they go away.

Suppose Mr. Murphy
found a better position
somewhere else.

Street hustles.

He'll sell you a stolen VCR,
brand new in the box.

Yeah. Nothing inside
but rocks, right?Yeah.

He'll wrap it up
real pretty.
Maybe deal a little dope.

Now, the last time
I seen him,

he was selling
subway slugs
four for $1.

Where was that?

42nd Street.

Near a place
called Lulu's. Thanks.

You interested?

Does that come
with coleslaw
and potato skins?

For you, anything.

All right!

Hey, look,
I didn't do nothing.
I don't know nothing.

And I don't want
to know nothing.

Sort of a Zen thing,
huh, Francis?

Keep your life
pure and simple.

I don't know.

I hate to intrude
on your ignorance,
but do you know this guy?

No, man.

Look, Francis!

No.

Hey.We've been asking around.

We hear you been
selling these pesos,
four for $1.

So? I'm a coin collector.

Yeah. And you sold
some to him.

I told you,
I don't know the guy.

And he used one of your coins
to run away from a murder.

Okay, look.
Maybe I do sell some of
these things, all right,

all day, to lots of
different people.

But I don't ask for ID
and I don't look
at their faces, man.

Just their dollars.

How many knife stores
you say there were?

I'll check the list.

Hey!

What?

Seventeen knife dealers.
Nobody recognizes our guy.

So far.

Carbon steel.
Stainless steel.

All these years I've been
using the wrong knife
to carve the turkey.

That's Mr. Conover.
I found him
during his evening jog.

Now, he recognized
a photo of the deceased.

They talked once
on a run around
the reservoir.

Her name was Emily.
You get a last name?

Nah. But she said
she lived on
East 86th Street.

Okay.
Now what?
Another dozen knife stores?

Or talk to every doorman
between Fifth Avenue
and the river?

Profaci will work the ID,
you stick to the cutlery.

Mercers? Nice knives.
But I guess
you already know that.

Did you happen to
sell this one to him?

Whose legs did he break?

You know the guy?

I used to gamble a little.
I liked the Lions.

When I lost, if I was
a little slow in paying,
he'd come around.

And he took a knife
for what you owed?

No, he'd just take
a knife for the hell of it.
I still owed.

What's his name?

He never
introduced himself,

except with a slap
on the head.

Who was he collecting for?

Keep me out of this.
I'm square with the guy.

Okay.
We were never here.

I don't know.

He killed a woman.

With my knife?

No.

Son of a bitch.

He was working
for Joey Giabone.

Little Joey?
Yeah.

But don't tell him
I said hi.

You're asking me?
That's funny.

Hey, we don't have
any attitude here, Joey.

You don't
have to be like this.

Come on, fellas,
you want to ask me
any questions,

you talk to my lawyer.
You know the rules.

Hey, you!
You wanna bowl in here,
you rent shoes, you dope.

Otherwise get outta here!

I own a piece of this joint,
you know.
I'm in the amusement business.

Yeah, right.
The Feds are after you
for gambling and extortion.

The D.A.'s on to you
for prostitution.

And two members
of the Lopez crew

haven't been seen
since they turned
State's evidence.

Yeah. But raping
and killing
in the park?

Now, we figured
that's him, not you.

So what do you want
to take
his weight for, huh?

Hey, what're you saying?
I know this guy?

We're saying he works for you.
We got people who say so.

Now, why open up whole
new lines of inquiry into
your amusements business

that you don't
need opened up?

Listen to me, "worked" for me,
you understand.
Not "works" for me.

I got rid of this
crazy Mexican a year ago.

You got a name?

Yeah, I got a name.
Luis Cruz, all right?

Yeah. Got it.
Last known address?

You're beautiful.

Luis Cruz's
wonder years were busy.

Three assault convictions.
Two tours upstate.

Gee, you mean Giabone
hired him without an M.B.A.
in Amusements Management?

I guess he got
his training on the job.

So does his description
match our sketch?

Up to the eyebrows.
They're sending us his mugs.

Him? Trouble.

Is he home?

Doesn't live here anymore,
not for a long time.

How long?

A year. Maybe two.

He leave
a forwarding address?

Him?

It's Curtis. Yeah.

Okay, thanks.

Profaci ID'd the victim.

Her husband just got back
from a business trip.

He'll meet us
at the morgue.

Some fun, huh?

You land at LaGuardia

and there's your wife, dead,
on the front page of the Post.

Here we go.

Detective Briscoe?

Dobson?

What happened
to the other guy?

You know each other?

My former partner
and I arrested him
for killing his first wife.

That's her.

You couldn't have been
married to this one
very long, Dobson.

Fourteen months.

And I guess you cut short
the mourning period
on your first wife, huh?

I never had a chance
to mourn her properly,

thanks to you
and the District Attorney.

You should have been
mourning her
for 25-to-life.

Detective Briscoe,
my wife
is lying there, dead...

Yeah. And we should
talk about that.

Can I have
some time alone?

His first wife
was getting ready
to divorce him

and take his money
and their kids.

Yeah. He's crazy
about the kids.

It's just the wives
he has a problem with.

But he was acquitted?

Well, the case got dropped
in the middle of the trial.

A CI sent us to
a junkie mugger who
turned out to be the shooter.

We always assumed
Dobson shot his wife himself.

But the junkie did it?

Yep. So Dobson walked.

Now, later on, we found out

the junkie had worked
at a comedy club
that Dobson owned.

They knew each other.

That's quite
a coincidence.

Yeah. But even if we could
establish Dobson put him
up to it, it was too late.

Double jeopardy.

You really think
he would try it again?

Quite a coincidence.

What about motive?

Hey, they were married,
weren't they?

Always the romantic.

Emily was really nice.

Dobson was some kind of
over-achiever
when it came to the ladies.

He doesn't strike me
as being that charming.

Well, women go for those guys.
It used to drive me crazy
when I was single.

A Barnard girl once
dumped me for a guy
who used to hit her.

Did you ever see
Mr. Dobson
hit his wife?

No.
Did you ever see
bruises on her?

You ever see
him yell at her?
No.

And I saw them once a month
at co-op meetings.

As long as she was taking care
of his kids, I think he was
getting what he wanted.

So the kids
were number one, huh?

Numbers one
through 1,000.

How well do you know
the Dobsons?

Well, they're next door.

Emily used to water my plants
when I was away.

She was always here,
always working.

They own
a restaurant together.

So between that
and the children...

She was so good
with his children,

I didn't even realize
that she wasn't the mother.

And Mr. Dobson?
How'd she get along
with him?

Fine. You mean like arguing?
Anything like that?

Jessica, where are
Jeremy's gloves?
Right here.

Hold them for him.

Just tell them the truth.

Should I just give you
a list of all of our friends
and neighbors,

so you can harass
everybody I know?

Well, here's my card.
Why don't you
just fax it on over?

This is part of
a normal investigation.

Of a random murder
in the park?

Hey, we haven't made
that determination yet.

That's because
you're determined not to.

Detective Briscoe,
let me help you out.

One day last winter,
I laced my wife's
ice skates too tight.

Then, another time,
I put too much salt
in her soup.

I'll get you
the witnesses' phone numbers.

We're just gonna follow this
wherever it takes us, Dobson.

Fine. Where is it
taking you now?

To your restaurant.

Good thinking.

If you run into the killer
there, tell him I recommend
the soft-shell crabs.

Are those in season?

The customers
were crazy about her.

She used to sit down
with them and buy them
after-dinner drinks.

I keep expecting her
to walk through the door.

She was always here
by now.

And Mr. Dobson?
Was he always here, too?

Of course. You know
what it takes
to start a restaurant?

I just can't believe
she's dead.

Did they open
this place together?

Yes. With the money
that Mr. Dobson got when
he sold his comedy club.

He handled
the business end
of things.

Do you know what business
took him out of town

when Mrs. Dobson
was killed?

He was meeting some people
in San Francisco
about franchising, I think.

I just know that
he didn't want to go.

He told you that?
I could tell.

He hadn't been away from here
since we opened.
He was so nervous.

He was calling
three times a night
just to see how we were doing.

And to make sure
everybody knew
he was out of town.

What do you mean?

Ms. Nash, would you happen
to know who handles
the insurance on this place?

I can check the files.

Funny guy, that Mr. Dobson.
How's he taking it?

You mean funny odd
or funny ha-ha?

He cracks me up.

I think he used to be
a comedian.

Yeah. Not exactly my brand
of humor. What kind
of policies did he have?

He used to have them all.

Fire and theft, liability,
and the partnership policy.

Yeah. Tell us
about the last one.

Well, he and his wife
own the restaurant together.

If either one died,
the other one
got $1 million

to keep
the business together.
It's very common.

You said he used to
have these policies?

Apparently,
the restaurant's cash flow
wasn't meeting projections.

Mr. Dobson let the liability
and fire-and-theft lapse.

But he kept the partnership?

Yes.

I suggested it would be
smarter if he kept
the other ones instead.

$1 million,
that sure eases the pain.

Well, I hate to
lie down in front
of the bandwagon here,

but nobody we talked to
ever heard them argue,

and I thought it was looking
pretty clear that Emily Dobson
was killed by Luis Cruz.

Hey, Dobson had
somebody else do it
the first time, too.

Tough part
was making the connection.

Well, why don't we
try to find it
a little sooner this time?

Cruz was muscle
for Joey Giabone,

who's into
all kinds of things.

You know, restaurant owners
have to deal with
a lot of different goons.

Rey, call
your friends in OCCB.

Find out who picks up
Dobson's garbage.

This one was easy,

Dobson's restaurant
is in a pilot
anti-corruption zone.

Its garbage gets hauled
by a squeaky-clean outfit
from upstate.

What about
vending machines?
Linen?

The linen's
still mobbed up.

Oh. Thank God.

But Dobson
gets his tablecloths
from Sonny Salvo.

We got his crew list,
and there's no Luis Cruz.

Oh, great.
You got any other
dead ends for us?

No, I checked
Dobson's old comedy club.

It had garbage, too.
And?

Old Town Carting,
sole proprietor,
Joey Giabone.

Thank you, ma'am.
Thanks.

You're such a big shot now,
Rey, you can't make it
to the Christmas party?

I had no one
to tango with.

Why, Rey,
you never dance with me.

No.

Don't you want to hear
who murdered your wife?

You mean this time
you're actually
trying to find out?

His name's Luis Cruz.
Does he look familiar?

I was 3,000 miles away
when it happened.
I didn't get a good look.

Have you arrested him?

We don't know
where he is.

We thought maybe
you could help.

How could I do that?
Go to detective school?

When you ran
your comedy club,

your trash was picked up
by Old Town Carting.

Okay.
Which is owned
by a mobster

named Joey Giabone,
who employed Luis Cruz.

You starting to see
a picture develop here?

No.

Cruz worked for the mobster
who shook you down.
Did you ever meet him?

We're gonna find out.

My wife is fresh
in the morgue,

and you want to
send me there, too?

You expect me
to tell stories

about the mobster scum
I have to deal with
as an honest businessman

because you damn cops
are too corrupt or lazy
to do anything about it?

Is that a yes?

Don't let the door
hit you on the way out.

We got a fax
from the San Francisco PD.

Dobson was there
when his wife was killed.

Leaving town,
that was a nice touch.

We got his records
from his hotel
and cell phones.

He didn't call anyone
but his home and office.

He even called home twice
after his wife was killed.

To talk to the kids?

No. The kids were
on a school trip.

He got the
answering machine.

And an alibi.

"Why would I call my wife
if I knew she was dead?"

He dots all his "I's."

So I guess it's too much
to hope he paid
Cruz by check.

This might be
just as good.

Dobson got
one 10-second phone call
to his cell phone

while he was in San Francisco
from a pay phone
on 8th Avenue in Chelsea.

Twenty minutes
after his wife was killed.

8th Avenue,
it's the same subway line
as Central Park West.

The call was charged
to a credit card.
Herbert Jaffe.

Who the hell is that?

You ever see
a $20,000 phone bill?

The phone company
just sent this over by UPS.

Any calls
to San Francisco?

Yeah, and Nigeria,
India, Senegal, Guam...

I take it you didn't
make those calls?

Well, I don't have
a whole lot of friends
in Sri Lanka.

Three days ago,
I was late heading home.

I stopped off at a pay phone
in the Port Authority
to call my wife.

I punched in
my credit card.

And somebody saw.

Midwest Express.

The sharp ones
can tell what number
you're dialing

from 10 feet away

by how
your fingers move.

Yep. Mom always said,
"Learn a skill."

Yeah, in 10 minutes
they've got
the number sold

to a dozen mokes
who miss their mommies
in the old country.

INS ought to
set up a bureau here, huh?

Well, we keep
an eye out.

Try to chase the wise guys
away from the phones,
you know.

Was this one of them?
Luis Cruz.

We think he used a number
that was stolen here
the other day.

I can't say
as I know that one.

Ma Bell's most-wanted list.

We keep it updated
and hand it out
to the shifts.

No Luis Cruz.
But here's a familiar face.

Francis Murphy.

Look, I told you,
I don't know that guy.

Right. Right.
You don't know him,
you didn't sell him a slug,

and now you didn't give him
a stolen credit card number

you picked up from
the Port Authority.

You know, you've got
a lot of interesting
sidelines, Francis.

And every one of them
leads to him.

You provided
his transportation
to a murder.

You provided him the number
he used to call the guy
who hired him.

No, no way.
You know, Rey,
maybe he's right.

Maybe it wasn't this guy.
I mean, it's Francis'
print on the coin.

Francis is the one
who got the
credit card number.

I think Francis
looks good for it.

Hey, now, you know
that ain't right.

If I can't arrest
one slime-bag,
I'll settle for another one.

And I still get home
in time for dinner.
Cuff him, Rey.

Look, look. Hey, hey,
suppose I just want
to walk on out of here.

Aw, now what fun
would that be?

All right, all right. Okay.
All right. All right.
Luis Cruz. He's a Mexican.

Yeah, we know.
Where do we find him?

I don't know, man.
That's too bad.

Okay. All right,
all right, all right.
Look, he's got a girlfriend.

Asian honey, you know.
On 8th Avenue.

You know how many
girls out here
call themselves "Joy"?

I guess it would help
if her name was Agnes.

She's Asian.
Does that help?
Hangs out with this guy.

Oh, yeah,
Mr. Personality.

Is this the guy that
tried to shove Phoebe
in the trunk of that cab?

No, that was Vincent.
This is the one that hangs out
with extra-short Joy.

But she's not Asian.
She's black.

Not that one. The one
that gets nauseous
if she smokes too much weed.

Ladies, this is
all fascinating...

Hey! It's not like
you're paying for the time.

Okay. Just let us know
when you're done.

I know her.
She's got a place
around the corner.

Thank you.

Now what do we get
for being so nice?

Freedom.

Don't move.

What're you doing?
Looking for Luis Cruz.

You got to be kidding.

Men's clothes.
Whose are these?

Luis', okay?

Where is he?

Where is he?

He runs out on me.
He steals my $400.

Then he gets the police
busting in on my door.

I hope you find him.
I hope you shoot him.

No problem.
Just tell us
where he went.

Mexico.
You go to Texas,
turn left.

You dragged me down here
because somebody made a call

to my cell phone
with a stolen credit card?

Thanks for telling me.
I'll get
a refund on my bill.

It was Luis Cruz,
telling you
the job was done.

This Luis Cruz,
he's the one
who murdered my wife?

Shouldn't you be
chasing him down
instead of harassing me?

What was the call about?

Mr. Dobson doesn't have
to tell you anything.

Just thought maybe your client
would like a chance
to clear himself.

He did business with Giabone.
Cruz worked for Giabone.

Cruz killed his wife
and then Cruz called him.

So what? So what?
If I ever see him,
I'll kill him. And wrong.

I'm gonna pick up my kids.

Give us a second, Counselor.

How's this
for fond memories?

I can't believe it.

Yeah. He still
makes my skin crawl.

He's not about to
sign a confession.
It's up to you.

It would help
if we had this Cruz.
Where is he?

There's a murder warrant
out for him.
We've notified INS

and sent a request for help
to the Mexican Federal Police.

I wouldn't count
on seeing him soon.

Hey, he comes into
$1 million.

He gets a phone call
from the killer 20 minutes
after the killing.

Nothing else makes sense.

Plus, he killed another one
just like this one.

Do it.

You bring me a root beer?

Michael Dobson, you're under
arrest for the murder
of Emily Dobson.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you do say
can and will be used
against you in a court of law.

"Case number 64030.
People v. Michael Dobson.

"The charge is
murder in the first degree."

First?

Murder for hire,
Your Honor.

Not guilty!
Counselor.

This is
a potential capital case.

The risk of flight
must be considered high.

My client runs
a business in the city.

He has
two small children.

The children
need me at home.
I'm their only parent.

Because he murdered
their mother.

Is that what
he's charged with here?

No. This is
a subsequent homicide.

No, this is a vendetta.
That charge was dropped.

First degree, no bail.

Next.
Let's go.

This guy again.
Never heard of
a divorce lawyer.

This time we don't
let him get away with it.

You were the one
that dropped
the charge last time.

Yeah. Before I learned
he was connected
to the trigger man.

This time we can link
Dobson to Luis Cruz,
before and after the murder.

People saw them together
at Dobson's comedy club.

And the call on
the stolen credit card
right after the call to Dobson

was to Cruz's mother
in Mexico.

So we have everything
except SenorCruz.

Murder for hire,
without the hiree.

Well, the jury
won't need him,

as long as they get to hear
what happened
to the first Mrs. Dobson.

Yeah, good luck.

To mention the death
of his first wife
in any way, in any form,

would poison the minds
of jury members.

Two dead wives,
both murdered
by surrogates,

establishes
a distinctive pattern,

which makes it admissible
under the Molineux rule.

The only pattern here
is misfortune,

that the People seek
to gain an advantage

from the tragedies
in this man's life.

Please. Every woman
this man marries ends up dead.

At whose hand?

My client was never
convicted of killing
his first wife.

Molineux doesn't require
a conviction or even a trial.

But the lack of a conviction
is a factor to weigh in
assessing probative value.

We're prepared
to offer evidence
of the first murder.

Which would be
an end run around
double jeopardy.

If this jury convicted,

we could never be sure
of which crime
they were convicting him.

So the People are penalized

because this man killed before
and got away with it?

Yes, they are. There'll be
no mention of the death
of the first Mrs. Dobson.

When can I see my children?
Their Aunt Fatty
won't bring them here.

You'll have to
petition
Children's Services.

Assuming you want them
to see you this way.

Suddenly, you're worried
about their well-being?

Suddenly, you are?

Well, it's been
nice chatting.

Sit down, Mr. Dobson.

Garcon!
We're not done.

You're here
to offer me a deal.
He's here to offer me a deal.

We're listening.

Speak for yourself.

Murder two.

Sentencing recommendation?

Who cares?

Hello! Attention, everybody!
I did not kill Emily.
I loved her.

Until she was worth
more to you dead
than alive.

Just like your first wife.

You think my problems
with my first wife,

whom I did not kill,
were over money?

Spare us, Mr. Dobson.

The only reason
I wanted out
of my first marriage

was because
I was in love with Emily.

Back then?

She was a waitress
at my comedy club.

And a beautiful,
warm-hearted, sensitive woman.
Everything I'm not.

I noticed the difference,
and I fell in love with her.

And I wanted to spend
the rest of my life with her.

To think
I would kill her...

You just can't understand.

Romeo, thy name is Dobson.

He was running around
on his first wife
with this one.

He just gave us
another motive
for his first murder.

Yeah. Two years too late.

Adam, I want to go
for the death penalty.

He's a slow-motion
serial killer.

We still have time
before we have to
make that decision.

Before I have to
make that decision.

If he goes to jail
for the rest of his life,

he's not going to
kill any more wives.

You can buy a hit man
on the street for $500.

Dobson's done that
twice now.

He's not gonna be
able to do it again
from jail.

Maybe not.

But people on the outside
might think again

if the price
was raised to $500 plus

one lethal injection.

Here's our notice of intent
to seek the death penalty
for Michael Dobson.

But we still have to convict
Dobson without mentioning
his first dead wife.

We have what we need.

Plus now we know
that Dobson had a girlfriend

when he murdered
his first wife.

Think he's doing it again?

Call Briscoe and Curtis.

Mr. Dobson is in mourning.
His wife is dead.

You understand?

Yeah.
That's why we're here.

This is no time
to be talking
about such things.

Hey, hey, hey,
do we tell you
how to bus dishes?

What about respect, you know?
For the family? For the dead?

If Mr. Dobson
was fooling around,
he's the one with no respect.

In my country,
we don't tell
such stories.

Welcome to America.
Speaking of which, you do have
your green card, don't you?

Yes.

All right.

You know, Mr. Dobson,
he's a man.
He has a woman on the side.

Is that another custom
in your country?

Not just in my country.

I saw him. Once.

So, they say
you've been having
an affair with Mr. Dobson.

No. He's my boss.
That's all.

Well, a bus boy
named Antonio

says that he saw you
and Mr. Dobson in the
storeroom a few weeks ago.

So? We're in the...

You were caressing him.

It was nothing.
We're just friendly.

Ms. Nash,
we're going to be
calling you as a witness.

To testify against Michael?
I won't do it.

You won't
have a choice.

You're going to twist it.
I know you are.

Twist what?

Michael and I,
we're in love.

But that has nothing to do
with what happened
to Mrs. Dobson.

How do you know?

Michael was going to
get a divorce so that
we could be together.

He didn't need to kill her.

He and Mrs. Dobson
had discussed it.
It was all set.

I don't know. There's no
record of either of them
seeing a divorce attorney.

Well, that can't be right.
Michael told me.

Michael told her.

If either of the Dobson's
ever saw a divorce lawyer,
it was the invisible one.

Sure. Because
he's got a better idea

for a more profitable way
to end his marriage.

No legal fees,
no alimony,
and a million-dollar bonus.

And the girlfriend gives him
an extra motive. The jury
gets to take its pick.

And Dobson knows it.
His lawyer just called.

We'll take man one.

You'll plead to manslaughter,
Mr. Dobson, despite
the fact that you're innocent?

You're gonna
make me look guilty.
I have to be realistic.

You have to be honest.

Any plea bargain would have
to include a full recitation
of the facts.

Your facts.

I needed money.

Show me
one restaurant owner
who doesn't.

I lied about getting a divorce
to some broad I was banging.

So shoot me. Whoa!
I wanna take that back.

No deal.

Jack McCoy's office.

When? Keep him there.
I'm sure he'll want
to see him right away.

The INS just picked up
a friend of yours at JFK

trying to sneak back
into the country.

Luis Cruz.

Him, I'll make
a deal with.

And what's in this
for Mr. Cruz?

How about
he doesn't get executed?

Man, I should've
stayed in Oaxaca.

Maybe you just
shouldn't have murdered
Emily Dobson.

Who's that again?

We have three eyewitnesses
who can put you at the scene,

including the man
you stabbed
with your knife.

Man one and
he cooperates fully.

Murder two.
I don't need him
to convict Dobson.

He's just icing
on the cake.

Okay.

I killed her
for Dobson,
for $10,000.

How did you know Dobson?

From his
old comedy club.

He did some business
with my boss.

Joey Giabone?

Yeah.

We picked up
the club's garbage,

provided some working capital,
and we kept the property safe.

Racketeering,
loan-sharking
and extortion?

That's what Dobson called it,
but I guess he liked
the way I did my job.

You said
he paid you $10,000.

Your girlfriend said you took
$400 from her before
you left the country.

What happened to the money?

I never got it yet.

Dobson mailed it
to me after the job

to one of those
private post office boxes.

What happened?
It got lost in the mail?

The cops were on me so fast,
I couldn't wait around
for it to get there.

I was gonna come back
for it like next year.

Why didn't you?

The mailbox place
called my girlfriend.

They said all mail had to be
picked up in 30 days
or they send it back.

So I took the chance.

Why didn't you have
your girlfriend pick it up?

Yeah, right.

These are the decisions
I love.

Do we put the hired killer
on the stand

before the insurance agent
and the girlfriend,

or do we put the girlfriend
and insurance agent
on before the hired killer?

Counselors.

We got the money
from the mailbox.

All there?

10 large, as advertised.
And we ran it through
Forensics as ordered.

Priority.
And?

And I just thought
maybe we would find
Dobson's fingerprints on it.

You didn't?

Not a one.
But all over the place,
Joey Giabone.

Giabone?

That's what it says.

Cruz's former employer.

Maybe not former.

Whoa! Whoa!
Wait a minute.

You're not saying
Dobson didn't do it?

Okay, you explain it.

We're offering him
an opportunity to give us
a simple explanation.

How his fingerprints
got on the money.

Mr. Giabone will be happy
to tell you anything
you need to know

regarding Mr. Cruz
and Mr. Dobson...

If you arrange
with Adam Schiff and
the U.S. Attorneys Office

to grant him complete immunity
relating to anything
he might mention.

Transactional immunity?

He's under investigation
for a dozen major crimes.

You want to bowl
a few frames?
Today is ladies' day.

Mr. Giabone,
this would help us.
It would also help you.

It's only a buck a game.

You're not a target
of this investigation,
but you can be.

Stand in line.

We might as well
have bowled.

Well, he did do
business with Dobson.

Extortion.
The money would have passed
from Dobson to Giabone,

not the other way around.

Giabone loan sharks, too.
Cruz said that
Dobson borrowed money.

Back when he ran
the comedy club.

Yeah. He borrowed it then.
When did he pay it back?

Did he pay it back?

You've already used me once
to help you try to kill him.

You handled
the restaurant's books.

We just want to know
if Dobson owed money
to Joey Giabone.

Another gangster, right?
Well, what if he did?

Does that hurt him
or help him?

It depends.

Look, if he owed money
to somebody like that,

doesn't it mean
they could have killed
Mrs. Dobson to scare him?

Did he owe money?

Yes. He owed somebody.

And he was scared.

How do you know?

There were phone calls
he wouldn't take.

He installed a video camera
outside the restaurant.

He even borrowed money
from me once,
$6,000 to make a payment.

He said he could be killed.

And you didn't
mention this before?

He needed money
to pay somebody back.

I thought you'd use that
against him, too.

I don't want
to talk about it.

You said you didn't
kill your wife.

If you know
somebody that did...

You mean Joey Giabone,
the mobster?

No. The sugar-plum fairy.
Forget it.

You'd rather
be convicted?

You're preparing the
brilliant case against me.
What choice do I have?

What are you protecting?

What could possibly
be any worse than
what you're facing?

Your children.

Give that man a cigar.

Giabone threatened
your children?

You people...

Almost as painful
as being railroaded
to the death chamber

is watching your minds
slowly turn.

Then give us a shove.

I owed the bastard money.

The restaurant
turned out to be
not such a great idea.

He said, "Pay."
I said, "I'd love to,
but I can't."

He killed my wife,

my beautiful, innocent wife,

all because of me.

Because I sat down
with scum like that.

And the call
from Cruz to you.

He said, "I just
killed your wife.

"Now you can pay
Mr. Giabone."

And once you geniuses
got involved,
there was another call.

"Keep your mouth shut,
or your kids..."

My kids...

But my client's
already been
cooperating fully.

Yes.
But with whom?

With you.
Is that right?

Mr. Cruz?

Exactly when did you stop
working for Joey Giabone?

I heard you've been
asking around.

You heard in Rikers?

I'm not convicted.
I can use the phone.
I know what's going on.

I've been reflecting.

I want to do
the right thing.

I think
it's a little late for that.

You want Giabone,
don't you?

You told us
Dobson hired you.

Excuse me,
but I'd like to
keep breathing.

Can I have a minute
to confer with my client?

We can confer right now.

They want Giabone,
and I can give him to them

if they do
the right thing for me.

We have a deal in place,
which you're now telling us
you violated by lying.

It's void.

So let's start over.

Giabone's a lot more important
than some crazy husband.

Man one.

The minimum.

Then witness protection.
Federal.

And I tell everything.

So now Dobson's poster boy
for "When bad things
happen to bad people."

That's Cruz's new story.
Giabone ordered
the wife hit.

He knew Dobson
would get
the insurance money

and be able to pay back
what he owed.

What have we got here?

A hit man
who changes his story
to get a better deal?

When Cruz first showed up,
he was the final nail
in Dobson's coffin.

But it couldn't have worked
out better for Dobson
if he'd arranged it himself.

That's interesting,
isn't it?

Have you got the phone number
for that mailbox place?

Yeah. Here.

Cruz came back

because somebody called
his girlfriend and said
he had to pick up his mail.

Hello, Mailbox City?

I've got a box there,
and I'm gonna be
out of town for a while.

How long will you
hold my mail?

Thank you.

As long as
I pay the bill, forever.

That's nice of them.
Now, who called
Cruz's girlfriend?

Okay, number one.

"Hello,
I'm calling from Mailbox City
with a message for Luis Cruz."

No, that wasn't her.

Number two.

"Hello,
I'm calling from Mailbox City
with a message for Luis Cruz."

I don't think so.

Okay. Number three.

"Hello, I'm calling
from Mailbox City
with a message for Luis Cruz."

That's her.
That's the bitch!
You hear me, bitch?

You got my Luis.
I'm gonna get you!
Hey, hey! Come on!

You got my Luis!
Bitch, I'm gonna get you!

Well, I assume we no longer
have any doubt
that Dobson's our man.

What kind of mind
could set up
something like this?

We know she visited him
at Rikers.

After the case started
going against him.

"Margaret, dear,
would you mind
making a call for me?"

He conned her.

And he thinks
he's still conning us.

I told you, McCoy.
I'm not going to testify.

If your own
investigation supports
Mr. Dobson's position,

I trust you'll do
the right thing anyway.

Do whatever you want.
I will not
endanger my family.

Very touching,
Mr. Dobson.

Your nobility must be
one of the things that made
Ms. Nash so devoted to you.

She has nothing
to do with this.

On the contrary.

Claire.

Honey, shut up.
He's trying to screw me.

No, Ms. Nash,
he's trying to use you.
He already has.

Margaret,
he's full of crap.

You made two phone calls
at your boyfriend's request.

One was to
the killer's girlfriend,
the other was to the INS.

An anonymous tip
to be on the lookout
for Luis Cruz.

Here are the phone records.

You're saying my client
had something
to do with this?

He asked her
to make those calls.

Isn't that right?
Margaret.

Why would he do that?

Because he knew
if Cruz came back,

we'd find the money
with Joey Giabone's
fingerprints.

If the money
has Giabone's
fingerprints...

Dobson used some
of the money he'd borrowed
from Giabone to pay Cruz.

If Cruz was picked up
with the money, it would
point to somebody else.

Somebody else did hire him.
Michael didn't do it.

You're very trusting.

Is that why
you used her, Mr. Dobson?

He gave you the number
of the killer's girlfriend.

How did he know that?

He knew these people.
They were after him.

And the fact that the money
for the hit man
was in that mailbox,

how did he know that?

I... I don't know.

Go ahead, Mr. Dobson,
explain it to us.
We're all listening.

Michael?

You're going to
testify about all this.

Margaret, Margaret,
you don't have to
say anything.

If you don't, I'll charge you
as an accomplice to murder.

Margaret.

You want to go
to prison for him?
What is it?

Do you really want to be
Mrs. Dobson number three?

Here's number one.

And here's number two.

What do you
want me to do?

Women!

I still can't believe
he committed
the same murder twice.

I mean, what did he think?
No one would notice?

A guy like that thinks
he can talk his way
out of anything.

And now he gets to do
his routine for the jury
in the penalty phase.

Then the appeals court,
then the higher court,
the newspapers,

the Governor.
He'll be on death row
well into the next century.

Plenty of time
to practice his shtick.