All language subtitles for Bosch.S07E02.The.Dog.You.Feed.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb-HI

Cause of death, asphyxiation

due to smoke inhalation and
acute carbon monoxide toxicity.

Same as her mother Maria

and Victoria Solis
and her unborn baby.

Next of kin?

Her father. Hector Hernandez.

- Uh, Maria's husband.
- Where was he?

52. Mexico?

- Deported a year ago.
- This a working number?

Yeah. I told him someone
from your office would...

get in touch with him, tell him
how to claim the bodies.

[door opens, closes]

♪ Keep your breath on me ♪

♪ And keep, keep, keep going
till my body is free ♪

♪ Keep your eyes on me ♪

♪ And keep, keep, keep going ♪

♪ Till I'm the last thing
you see ♪

♪ Keep your touch on my skin ♪

♪ And keep, keep, keep going ♪

♪ Keep, keep, keep going ♪

♪ Oh, you're taking me...

[rock music playing
over speakers]

[lively chatter]

Gladys.

Mickey. Anything?

- Nothing so far.
- Building's a crime scene, Mickey.

A clusterfuck.

How am I supposed
to conduct business?

Women and children,
for God's sakes.

I know. It's a fucking mess.

Any of your cholos
off the reservation?

We're looking into it, but...

Personally,
I don't think so, either.

Who, then? MS-13?

Possible.
Looking into that, too.

What can I do? I'm fucked.

Hey. We're all hurting.

I guess Las Palmas don't get
paid this month. Too bad.

Fuck you. Fire's your problem.

You pay your rent, like always.

Fuck you. I will buy my shit
somewhere else.

Just find
the fuckers who did it.

You heard the lady.

[♪ JPOLND: "The End"]

♪ Oh, you're taking me down ♪

♪ Haunting my dreams ♪

♪ I'm at the end of the world
with you ♪

♪ You're taking me on ♪

♪ Haunting my heart ♪

♪ I'm at the end of the world
with you ♪

♪ You're taking me down ♪

♪ Haunting my dreams ♪

♪ I'm at the end of the world
with you ♪

♪ You're taking me on ♪

♪ Haunting my heart ♪

♪ I'm at the end of the world
with you ♪

♪ Ah ♪

♪ ♪

- ♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
- ♪ Can't let go ♪

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

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

- ♪ Can't let go ♪
- ♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪

- ♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
- ♪ Can't let go, can't let go ♪

♪ Got a feeling
that I can't let go ♪

- ♪ I got a feeling that I can't let go ♪
- ♪ Can't let go, can't let go ♪

♪ Can't let go ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Like me ♪

[Thorne] Housekeeping.

Gentlemen and ladies,

if you're using
bullpen computers

to write up your reports,

please return all chairs
to from where

you got 'em or risk revocation

of patrol's precious
but strictly ad hoc privileges.

And pick up your damn dip cups.

[indistinct chatter
and groaning]

Don't groan. They're disgusting.

And lastly, Lieutenant Billets
has graced us with her presence

all the way
from the first floor.

Needs a word with you,
so listen up.

Thank you, Lieutenant.
And good morning.

First, let me
commend those of you

who worked the East Hollywood
New Year's Eve apartment fire.

Your hard work does not go
unnoticed or unappreciated.

Second, it has
come to my attention

that some officers
have been calling in sick

on court dates
that fall on their RDOs.

Patrol needs to show up
in court.

Everyone's hard work
goes down the toilet

when you no-show.

- The D.A. needs your testimony.
- Fucking detectives.

Their cases, let them
spend their day off in court.

I'm sorry, share with
the whole class, Officer...

Leonard.

Officer Leonard,
who are you referring to?

Detectives, Lieutenant.

We do the grunt work,
they get the glory.

That's true, they do.

And if you could do their job,

you wouldn't be
sitting here right now,

listening to my bullshit.

Oh, snap.

[Lloyd] Ouch.

Thank you, Lieutenant Thorne.

[quietly] Fucking dyke.

Skinny no foam latte.

[Vega] Thanks.

- Lifesaver.
- I swear,

one more sip
of that breakroom swill.

- Paint thinner.
- [chuckles]

Detective Bernardo stopped by.

Dropped off this study guide.

Thanks.

Going for D2?

Thinking about it.

Logical next step, right?

Signed up for orals yet?

- Not yet.
- [exhales] Orals are a bitch.

Just saying.

E-mail from
a property management rep.

Mm, about time.

Got something?

Information on the building owner.

- Name, address, phone number.
- Latest wit statements?

Nothing new.
Reading between the lines?

Harassment by the landlord
who's tussling with the dealers.

Tenants caught in the middle.

- I'll look at it anyway.
- I'll print them out

- and put them on your desk.
- Thanks.

How we coming with that partial?

Mm, so far, bubkes.

- [Bosch] Expand the circumference.
- [Barrel] Just did.

To a mile.

Make it two.

You got it.

[footsteps approaching]

[indistinct
police radio chatter]

- [door opens, closes]
- [sighs]

Rough night?

- Not looking so fresh yourself.
- [Bosch] Oh.

Difference is I was here
doing some actual police work.

Can smell it on you, man.

Coming out
of your fucking pores.

Meet you at the car.

[breathes deeply]

Collins. I was just about
to come looking for you.

Beat you to it.

Miguel Peña, Emmanuel Trejo.

La Mayorista's in there, too.

Gang Unit keeping tabs on her?

- At the moment, she's in the wind.
- I want to talk to her.

Got my CIs on it.
We'll pick up the scent.

Solid.

You heard the name La Mayorista?

Sounds like
a gastrointestinal ailment.

Like la turista.

[Bosch] How about
Melinda Morales?

Refresh my memory.

75-year-old grandmother
you're trying to evict.

- Drugs were being dealt out of her apartment.
- Not by her.

Her grandson,
who doesn't even live there.

LAPD arrested him
on the property.

Okay, so mission accomplished.

It's why you brought in
the new manager.

To clean up the building, yes.

So, why evict the old lady?

Violated her lease.

We don't tolerate
excessive tenant interaction

- with law enforcement.
- Catch-22.

Your manager calls LAPD
about the dealers,

LAPD comes
and talks to your tenants,

you evict them
for talking to LAPD.

Only when it becomes a nuisance.

Then we invoke
the nuisance clause.

You know, I got to say,
call me crazy,

but one might get the impression

you're trying to push
your tenants out.

We're making
our buildings safer.

For everyone.

Including locked fire doors
and dead ten-year-old girls?

No one feels worse
about this tragedy than we do.

Bullshit crocodile tears.

You looked her in the eye.
Think she's involved?

Think she got what she wanted
when she installed

the new manager.

Pushback from the gangs.
Attention from LAPD.

- Pressure on the tenants.
- Exactly.

You are a cynic.

Come by it honest.

[quiet chatter]

[door opens]

And that is why
they call you Money.

J. Reason Fowkkes.
What brings you here?

Oh, busman's holiday.

Heard you landed
the great white whale.

Au contraire. He landed me.

That's a lucky whale.

Make sure the cameras
catch your good side.

Always.

- [door opens]
- [reporters clamoring]

[reporter] Mrs. Franzen!
Mrs. Franzen!

- [door closes]
- [Chandler] Mrs. Franzen.

- Ms. Chandler.
- Thank you for coming.

This is a fucking nightmare.

- Pardon my French.
- We'll get through it.

Uh, why don't you have a seat.

It may be a while.

Thank you.

Need me to stay?

No. Better if you go back
to the office,

see if Miller needs help.

Thanks, Maddie.

[snoring softly]

[lively jazz music playing]

[turns up volume]

Just resting my eyes.

Right.

Stop for lunch?

In-N-Out drive-through,

then head back to the barn,
keep grinding.

In-N-Out works.

Animal fries.

[phone vibrates]

Hey, Barrel. What you got?

[Barrel] Maybe you can't
teach 'em new tricks,

but old dogs
sure know how to hunt.

Okay. Spare me the homespun
Burl Ives impression.

Just text me the address.

[lively jazz music continues]

Got the plate?

Got the plate, got the car.

Got the car, got the bombers.

That's the theory.

So no grub?

This first.

Your Honor,
Mr. Franzen is a family man,

married with teenage children,

and deep ties to his community.

He owns a home.

He has no criminal record
and is not a flight risk.

Ms. Boyle.

Your Honor,

Mr. Franzen most certainly is
a flight risk.

He has unlimited resources
and ample reason to flee.

The scope of his scheme
to defraud

his investors is vast.

And we have 230 witnesses

who will attest to
his cupidity under oath.

I hope you're not planning
to call all 230 of them.

A representative sample will do.

Your Honor.

What bail did you have
in mind, Ms. Boyle?

Considering how many people
Mr. Franzen defrauded,

how about $230 million?

- A million a pop.
- Your Honor...

Bail is set at
one and a half million dollars.

[siren passing in distance]

[Ally] There must be
some mistake.

Where were you New Year's Eve?

- A séance.
- Séance?

- At the Magic Castle.
- From when to when?

10:00 to 2:00, or so.

- [Bosch] Did you drive?
- I drove.

My friend Amber
drove us all home.

- Designated driver.
- Correct.

- Good for you.
- Hmm.

Did somebody use your car
while you were, uh,

communing with the spirits?

What? No. Why?

- Where'd you park?
- Valet. I never park on the streets,

especially in Hollywood.

OMG.

Did one of the valets
use my car to commit a crime?

A question
we're trying to answer.

[scoffs] You know,

I thought the car smelled
kind of funny, like

nail polish remover, you know?

Hasn't been washed in a while.

I'm embarrassed.

I've been so busy
with the store.

- I made an appointment to get it detailed.
- Cancel it.

We need to impound your vehicle,
run it for prints and evidence.

When do I get it back?

When we're done with it.

Come see a show.

Thought it was members only.

Give me your e-mail address,
I'll get one of the magicians

to send you an invite.

Everybody that was on
that night.

- You were busy?
- Full up.

Lot of cars to keep track of.

- We manage.
- Busy enough for somebody

to borrow a customer's car
for a couple hours?

Without my guys knowing? No way.

[Edgar] Let's talk
about your guys.

Customers inside,
popping the cork...

why not take one of these
fancy whips for a joyride?

You take a Lambo or a Ferrari
for a joyride,

not a Mercedes SUV.

We have video
of a dark gray Mercedes SUV,

East Hollywood,
same time the owner was here

whooping it up New Year's.

- Not possible.
- Definitely possible.

Plates match.

Maybe the owner loaned it
to somebody.

- She says no.
- Maybe she's lying.

[Bosch] Maybe she is.

People lie to us all the time.

Not me.

You contact anybody
on this list to warn them,

I'm gonna charge you
as an accessory.

Accessory? Accessory to what?

[Alexander] How's Jun
holding up?

She's a rock.

And you?

Cautiously optimistic.

Little guy's a fighter.

Like his dad.

- Like his mom.
- [chuckles]

Thanks for meeting me.

Ah, I'm glad you reached out.

I've been meaning to call.

About what?

You first.

You invited me.

There's a... [clears throat]

a rumor going around
that you're stepping down.

I hope it's not true.

I'm counting on your vote
in support of my second term.

[sighs]

I'm sorry to ambush you.

It's true?

Afraid so.

When?

Immediately, more or less.

You can't put it off?

Not till then. No.

[takes deep breath]

Look, Francis, I hate to ask...

[sighs]

...but I can do the math.

Right now,
it's three-two in my favor.

You leave,
Lopez appoints your replacement,

then it's three-two against.

You don't know that.

I do.

She's freezing me out.

Why?

Best guess?

She wants a Latino chief.

I can't.

I'm sorry.

[sighs]

All right.

I respect that.

Stage IV pancreatic cancer.

Jesus, Francis.

[chuckles]

I swore I wasn't gonna play
the cancer card.

[sighs]

I wish I could hang in there
for you.

Don't be silly.

[sighs]

Just get better.

Yeah. Well.

[Irving] Hey. I've got this.

Thank you.

You, uh...

you give Jun my best.

Same to Margaret.

Take care of yourself, Irv.

You, too.

See you soon.

You bet.

[sighs]

[sighs]

[line rings]

[Kowski] You've reached
the voice mail of Jen Kowski,

special assistant to the mayor.

- Please leave a message.
- [beep]

- Call me back.
- [Chandler] Are you all right?

Yeah. I'm-I'm great.

I mean, I could, uh,
I could use a hot shower

and a change of clothes.

Have a seat, Mr. Franzen.

[intercom beeps]

Maddie, would you mind
getting us some coffee?

- [Maddie] Right away.
- Thank you.

So, you survived
your night in stir.

[exhales] Yeah.

[sniffs] Zero shuteye.
Didn't sleep a wink.

My God, the... the noise

- and the lights...
- First time?

[chuckles] Fuck yeah.

Yeah, I mean,
I spent a couple hours

in the drunk tank once, but...

Otherwise...

[exhales]

Look.

I'm not a brave person.

Okay? I j...
I don't have the DNA.

So I can't do time.

I just can't.

Okay.

Let's talk about how to make
sure that doesn't happen.

- [quiet chatter]
- [phones ringing]

- [beep]
- [sighs]

Choir boys.

No warrants, no arrests,
no likelies in my half.

Start with this guy.

Parolee. Gangbanger.

Parolee for what?

Grand theft auto.

And he's working as a valet?

What they call irony.

"Russell Barnes."
Doesn't sound Las Palmas.

Nah, he's a Crip.

Let's go lean on him.

The D.A. has a hornets' nest
of aggrieved former clients

eager to testify against you.

So I think the last thing
we want to do is go to trial.

Which means a plea.

Right, and as I said,
I-I... I can't do time.

- Any time.
- Full disclosure:

testify against
your coconspirators.

That's not a problem.
Bunch of mutts.

As much restitution as possible.

[sighs] Oh, Jesus.

And I think we can get you
a light sentence

in a minimum security facility.

[laughs] Okay, you-you listen
but you don't hear.

It wouldn't be like county jail.

It's more like Club Fed.

How can I be any clearer?

No time. None.

It's a deal breaker.

Okay.

[sighs]

I need something
I can work with.

Right.

[takes deep breath]

A really big fish?

Bigger than you?

Yes, much bigger.

Uh, yes, a-a muy grande pescado.

A fish that makes
Michael Milken look like

a 12-year-old altar boy
filching bills

- out of the collection plate.
- [door closes]

- [Chandler] Uh, thank you, Maddie.
- Of course.

[exhales] We'll need to get
the SEC on board.

Insider trading?

Yeah. You bet.

I'll reach out to the SEC.

Maybe, uh... maybe we can
get you probation.

Mm-hmm.

Community service,
a hefty fine...

- How hefty?
- Hefty.

- Instead of restitution?
- In addition to.

Aw, Jesus. [exhales]

Okay.

If this other crime
is as massive

- as you say...
- It is.

Which you are not involved in?

Not even a hint of a scintilla.

It's gonna be a huge story.

Media will be camped out
in your azaleas.

Mm. They already are.

Well, we'll deal with that.

First things first.

Tell me everything.

[dog barking in distance]

[birds chirping]

You take the lead with Barnes.
He'll deny it.

Then we'll tell him
we found his prints in the car.

- He's a valet.
- Exactly what he'll say.

- Then we got him in a lie.
- Right.

Gary Wise's old hood.

Yep.

How's it going with the shrink?

You know.

- Tell her you been cleared?
- Not yet.

[exhales]

Shit.

[sighs]

Mistaken identity, man.

No mistake.

Got the car at the crime scene,
on video.

Plates match. Done and dusted.

I didn't park no dark gray
Mercedes SUV that night.

You remember every car you park?

Photographic memory for cars.

So remember harder.

Seven other valets on
that night.

Why you hassling me?

- Your prints are in the car.
- Bullshit.

- Prints don't lie, brother.
- Cops do.

We was busy. Hopping.

Maybe I moved the car
out the way,

but I didn't park it. Feel me?

You're an OG on parole
and you're still banging.

Nah, man, I ain't.

I was, I wouldn't be working
for no punk-ass tips.

You fit the profile
for our gang-related 187.

Murder?

Shit.

Man...

trying like a motherfucker to be

- a civilian here.
- Mm.

- Cut a brother a break.
- Five counts,

including a ten-year-old girl
and an unborn baby.

[exhales]

Man, don't do me like this.

Now's the time to get out
in front of this shit.

Ain't got nothing to do with me,
but you gonna bust me anyway.

Goes where it goes.

Tsk, man.

[exhales]

I rent that whip
for an hour or two

to a couple
of Las Palmas homies.

Names.

Lil Trey Trey
and some dude they call Zorro.

Don't fuck around. Real names.

Streets are all I got.

Look 'em up
in your fucking database.

Say why they wanted it?

They didn't say, I didn't ask.

Long as they paid cash up front

and they brought that shit back
without a scratch. Feel me?

We good?

For now.

But, remember,

I got you as an accessory
on five felony murders.

[exhales]

You feel me?

The mayor appreciates
the long hours and hard work.

The mayor should come to
a meeting once in a while.

It was on her schedule.
Something came up.

You'd think she'd make time
for Hispanic Heritage Fiesta.

It's at the top of her list.

Her last name doesn't
give her carte blanche

to middle-finger the community.

Want me to stay?

It's okay.

Chief.

Jen. Warren.

Chief Irving.

Have a good night.

You've been ducking my calls.

What can I do for you, Irv?

The open slot
on the Police Commission Board...

I need to know
who Lopez is considering.

I don't work for you
anymore, Chief.

A change on the board
impacts the department.

Impacts you, you mean.

Consider this a quid pro quo.

You offering me a bribe?

A favor for a favor.

Down the road.

Have a nice night.

[engine idling]

[shuts engine off]

[crickets chirping]

[sighs]

[exhales]

[exhales sharply]

[knocking]

What are you doing here?

Dinner with the boys.

They ready?

We haven't heard from you
in days.

[exhales] Sorry.

Working the arson case.

All hands on deck.
Burning the candle at both ends.

You should go home,
get some rest.

- It's my night with the boys.
- It was.

But since we didn't hear
from you, we made other plans.

[exhales] I can come with.

Maybe next time.

- [chuckles softly] Hey, Dad.
- Dad.

Your father, he just stopped by
to say a quick hello.

- Mm.
- [pats back]

Sorry I couldn't make it
New Year's Eve.

I had to work.

- The fire?
- Mom told us.

I'll make it up to you.
I promise.

All right, we should get going.

- Mm. See ya, Dad.
- See ya.

Love you.

- Love you, too.
- Love you, too.

[car doors opening]

[engine starts]

[sighs]

[crickets chirping]

[♪ John Coltrane:
"Velvet Scene"]

♪ ♪

Michael Milken.

Yeah, what about him?

- You heard of him?
- Yeah.

Disgraced financier
turned philanthropist.

Why do you ask?

Chandler repping
someone involved

with financial shenanigans?

You know I can't talk about it.

Fair enough.

What?

Thinking about Sonia Hernandez.

How's that going?

You know I can't talk about it.

[chuckles softly]

Fair enough.

I'm so beat.

See you in the morning.

- Sleep tight.
- You, too.

- Love you.
- Love you.

♪ ♪

[piano playing gentle music]

That's pretty. What is it?

Just, uh, noodling.

I had lunch with, um,
Francis Alexander today.

Oh, how is he?

Not well.

Oh?

Pancreatic cancer.

Stage IV.

Oh, Irv.

I'm so sorry to hear that.

He's stepping down
from the commission.

When?

Immediately. [sighs]

Poor man.

How much time does he have?

[sighs]

Not long.

Who will she pick
to replace him?

Trying to get a bead on that.

Have you talked to Jen?

I tried.

[sighs]

I don't know.

Maybe I should announce I won't
be seeking a second term.

Not like we don't have
other concerns.

Our son will be fine.

I know.

And you wouldn't be you
if you walked away.

You look worn, Jérome.

[Edgar] Haven't been sleeping.

Bad dreams?

That obvious?

Mm. It's written all over you.

"I could be bounded
in a nutshell

and count myself
a king of infinite space

were it not that I had
bad dreams."

Hmm.

Haitian proverb?

Mm. Shakespeare.

- "Hamlet."
- [chuckles softly]

I have a tea might help.

That'll work.

[door opens]

Bonswa, Mama.

I saw the light.

Mm. Bonswa, Lucian.

- Koman ou ye?
- Mwen byen.

- Wristwatch, no?
- Wi.

- One moment, cheri.
- Mm.

- Bonswa.
- [sniffs] Bonswa.

I know you.

Sorry, I don't think so.

You're the man
who killed the Butcher.

You're the policeman.

God's work, Detective.

You're doing God's work.

I don't know about that.

I pray he continues
to bless you.

[footsteps approaching]

- Mèsi. Bòn nwi.
- Mm.

- Bòn nwi.
- Bòn nwi.

- Thank you for the tea.
- Mm-hmm.

Orevwa, Jérome.

[birds chirping]

[sighs]

- [phones ringing]
- [quiet chatter]

What do we have here?

Lil Trey Trey and Zorro.

- They are in the database.
- Imagine that.

"Emmanuel Trejo

and Pedro Alvarez.

Las Palmas 13."

According to Collins,
Trejo's one of the shot callers.

- Alvarez?
- Foot soldier.

- Forensics back?
- Traces of petroleum

in the Mercedes matches the
accelerant found at the fire.

- Prints?
- Trejo and Alvarez.

- Enough for a PC arrest.
- Best case,

they tell us to piss off.

Worst case, they lawyer up.

So, what are you thinking?

[distant, indistinct chatter]

She lip-bitching,
"Just tell me what you want."

I'm like, "Damn, girl, just
let me play 'Fallen Order.'"

- Know I mean?
- Yeah, I fucking love that game.

I should let her go, huh?

Gang Unit ready?

[Collins] Just waiting on "go."

[indistinct chatter continues]

- Let's take 'em.
- All units. Initiate. Initiate.

- [car engine starts]
- [sirens blaring]

[tires squealing]

[tires screeching]

Ah, fuck.

- [officer] LAPD! Down! On your knees! Now!
- LAPD! Hands in the air!

[officer] Everybody down!
Down! Down now!

- Down on your knees!
- Hands in the air!

- Grab him! Go! Go! Go! Go!
- [officer] On your knees!

- Now!
- Don't move!

Freeze! Down on your knees!

[officer] Lace those
fingers now! Down!

- On your knees now!
- [Bosch] You.

Walk back to me,
hands on your head.

- What the fuck did we do?
- Get down on your knees.

You heard the man.
Down. On the ground. Now!

Got no probable.
This is bullshit.

Not gonna tell you again.

- And what? You gonna shoot me?
- Yo, Manny, chill.

You heard your homey.
Get the fuck down.

Punk-ass bitch.

Hiding behind your badge.

- Jerry, you got him?
- Lil Trey Trey?

Yeah, I got him.

Mano a mano?
I'd fuck you up, dawg.

Show the world
the puta you really are.

[grunting]

- Jerry.
- [groaning]

- Oh, motherfucker!
- [Edgar] You're not much

- now, huh, muchacho?
- Kick him loose.

[Trejo] Fuck you, motherfucker!

[groans] Fucking bitch.

- Your partner's out of control.
- [Trejo] It's fucking

police brutality, huh?!
Fuck the police!

Y'all see this shit?!

Hey, fuck the police!

Get the fuck off me, bitch!
[grunts]

[groaning]

Fucker! Fuck you, bitch!

- Jerry.
- [Trejo] Fuck you.

- [Bosch] Jerry. Jerry!
- Fucking do something, huh?

[man] Get the hell out of here!

[shouts in Spanish]

Jerry, get in the fucking car!

[Trejo] Fuck you, bitch.
Fuck you!

[dogs barking in distance]

[engine starts]

- [glass shatters]
- [whoops]

[man] This is bullshit, man!

[indistinct
police radio chatter]

[phones ringing in distance]

Okay, bro.

Jerry.

What the hell
was that out there?

He disrespected me.

You lost your shit
for the whole world to see.

- He was noncompliant.
- Think about

the body cam footage, the
civilians with the cell phones.

Think about the optics.

- Harry...
- You better hope what you did

doesn't come back
to bite us all in the ass.

How'd it go?

We got our bombers.

Yeah, I heard
it got a little tense.

Smooth as glass.

I hope I won't be seeing it
on Facebook.

Oh, don't tell me.

Jerry got a little frisky
with one of 'em.

- Looks worse than it was.
- Oh, fuck. All right.

Deal with it when we come to it.

- Jail op good to go?
- Got one.

- Which?
- Alvarez. Trejo's a boss. He won't fall for it.

Alvarez is a punk kid, so we'll
let him marinate overnight

till he's nice and tender.

Good. Vaya con Dios.

[indistinct
police radio chatter]

[door unlocks, opens]

All right, in you go,
baby killer.

[lock clicks]

[waiter] Long Island iced tea.

[Sherwood sighs]

And an O'Doul's Amber.

- Thanks.
- You're welcome.

[piano playing quietly]

- Wish I was joining you.
- Mm.

Who would do
something like this?

- I have a pretty good idea.
- Who?

Hmm. Not "who," but "what."

All caps. White shoe polish.

It's a cop.

You kidding me?

No, all caps is something
that cops learn in the academy.

White shoe polish
is how we mark our vehicles

during a mobile field force.

You got to report this, Grace.

[sighs]

First thing in the morning.

[siren wailing in distance]

Harry.

Yeah?

Wait.

You were right.

I lost control out there today.

Sonia Hernandez deserves better.

I know.

Tighten up or bounce.

I will.

I hope so.

[engine starts]

[upbeat song
sung in Spanish playing]

[phone vibrating]

[Peña] Yeah?

Heard they busted
Trey Trey and Zorro.

It's bullshit.

- Should I be worried?
- I'm not.

You... you're more sensitive.

- Fuck you, Mickey.
- No names.

Look who's sensitive.

Will your boys stand up?

Not a problem.
They didn't do it.

Give me your word.

I just did.

[quietly] Lying cocksucker.

[siren whoops]

Shit.

[car pulls up]

[indistinct
police radio chatter]

[dispatcher] All units
in the vicinity

of 405 and Lantana...

[indistinct police radio
chatter continues]

Officer Enochty.

Everything all right, Detective?

I live in the area.

My old lady and I got into it
pretty good, and...

...needed to cool down.

You know how it is.

Sure.

- Careful getting home.
- Yeah.

[indistinct police radio
chatter continues]

[car doors open]

[car doors close]

♪ ♪