All language subtitles for City.on.a.Hill.S03E02.WEB.x264-TG

What-what-what do
they got you on?

Is it chemo, radiation,
what are we doing?

Nothing. I didn't
want any of that.

We're gonna respect his wishes,

make him comfortable,

and let him die
on his own terms.

I disagree.

I don't want you to worry.

I'm gonna fight for your family.

- Gun!

Officer down.

Officer down. Russ, Russ.

Stay here, man, stay here.

Well, Jenny, I hope you do
make peace with your da.

You can't converse with a ghost.

Good night, Dominique.

How was that?

- Nice.

Nothing happened.

I'm a happily married man.

New job. New day.

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My car's in the shop.
Goddamn loaners these days.

Hey, Quincy.

Ugh, Jesus,

Jackie, you've been doing
that joke for ten years.

Old jokes are like vintage wine,
they both improve with age.

Well, you sure as hell haven't.

Listen, this corpse that
you're rolling out of here,

Dominique Zanghi,

- what'd she die of?
- Last I heard,

the FBI kicked you
into the sewer.

You no longer have clearance
to receive medical data.

Philomena, after all these years

and all the corpses
that we've shared,

you're really gonna shut me out?

I play by the rules,

which is why I'm still employed.

Oh, come on, Phil, remember
how much fun we had

the night of the
Blackfriars Massacre?

Oh, you're such an old
softie, but tell me,

why do you care about
this particular stiff?

Got a new job, working
security, Beacon Hill.

I can't say the name of
the family, of course, but

they were acquainted
with the deceased.

I just, you know, want to
find out what happened.

My report will be made
public in three weeks,

per standard procedure.

You can't be a little less
standard just this once?

This clown bothering
you, Doctor?

No worries, Fernando.

Mr. Rohr was just
dearly departing.

Hey, Mrs. Diggs.

Dad?

- Hey, D-Dad, Dad.

- Hey, you all right?

I'm A-OK.

When are you gonna admit that
you should be in a hospital?

I've slept in this bed...

47 years.

I want to die here.

Is that so hard for
you to understand?

What I don't understand
is why you're giving up.

You don't understand
a lot, do you?

I'm-I'm going back to sleep.

Ballistics has matched
your weapon to the bullet

that struck and killed
Officer Russ Wallace.

You want to explain
what happened?

In a firefight, shots ricochet,

bullets fragment.

Two guns firing feels like ten,

five feels like 50.

So, Officer Wallace died

as a result of friendly fire?

I don't know how
he fucking died.

You said ballistics
matched my weapon.

In case you fucking forgot,

we were taking fire
from a combatant.

Understood.

Sanborn, right?

How'd your interview
with Officer Dunleavy go?

You evasive IAD fuckers kill me.

You're all parasites,
you know that?

I'm trying to ignore the fact
that you're breaking protocol,

considering this tragedy
happened under your command.

That probably makes you
feel like a piece of shit,

but if you don't step away,

I'll report you for interfering
with an investigation.

Wh-What protocol? I
was getting a coffee.

You just interviewed
a cop killer,

who executed a
colleague to stop him

from testifying against Suferin.

I mean, call me crazy,

I thought maybe you'd
show some fucking balls.

I like Hernando, but
he got that fucking rod

in his brain 'cause
he fucked up.

He wasn't wearing
his protective gear,

- and he was drinking.
- His blood alcohol

level was .05, well
below the legal limit.

Besides, it doesn't look like
he was knocking 'em back alone.

I've been in AA eight years.

That was left here by the
guys working last night.

Tell me, Mr. Correa,

do you care about the
men on your shift?

I care about every one of them.

Hernando was a good man.

Drunk or not, this plastic
isn't stopping a rod.

You can give me something.

I just did.

Any of these workers
would tell OSHA

that this site has problems.

What does that mean?

Mr. Correa.

- There you go.
- Uh-huh.

Uh, do you need clean gear?

Uh...

Hey, my daughter's in N.A.

Yeah, she's almost 18
months clean and sober.

I don't have any
dirties to trade you.

No, that's okay.

Um...

When you're done with these,

just bring 'em back and
put 'em in the red bin.

Thanks.

My daughter says that
the shame doesn't help.

Lucky her for having you.

But you being here shows
that you, you really care.

Uh-huh.

Thank you.

Hey, Father Doyle.

- Oh, Diarmuid.
- Diarmuid.

- Right.

- You fancy a tea?
- Uh, no, thanks.

Um...

That girl you were talking to...

- Mm-hmm?
- You know, I don't mean to pry,

but I guess I always do. Uh...

Is she okay?

She's the daughter of
a neighbor of mine.

Without betraying her
confidence, I think she will be.

She just needed
someone to say that

feeling confused is all right.

Well, as someone who's
constantly confused,

I'm very happy to hear that.

Sometimes confusion is just fear

in sheep's clothing.

Have you definitely decided
not to see your dad?

I want him to want to see me.

Well, maybe he does.

No. Smart criminals don't return
to the scene of the crime.

He deserted my mother and me.

You know, leaving us to
just tear each other down.

Thanks anyway,

uh, for asking, Father.

- Caysen.
- Hey.

Knew you'd still
be in the office.

Ah, look who's talking.

Two states away,
you can't clock out.

Eh, guilty.

So, hey, man, how'd things go

with Dunleavy and
Internal Affairs?

- Chris?
- Uh...

He walked out of
the interrogation

looking like he
got a happy ending.

How's your father?

You know, I k... I keep
asking myself, like,

what-what is it, what is the
thing that makes some cops

still defend the blue
line even when they know

their colleague's in the
wrong? Like, what is it?

Like, a-a power trip?

Is it mob mentality?
What, like...

If you'd asked me a week
ago about blue loyalty,

I'd have been right
there with you,

ready to burn down the whole
department, but lately,

feels like I'm the crazy
fucker wearing a tinfoil hat.

Hey, man, you should get
some rest, all right?

- You don't sound too good.
- Yeah. All right.

Hey.

Agent Milani, right?

Ramin Milani. Jackie Rohr.

Oh.

I knew I recognized your face.

This is the agent who got fired
for banging a U.S. Attorney

and sending her
into a cocaine coma.

Well, first, I quit.

Second, I'm also the
agent who's responsible

for bringing down that
Charlestown bank heist gang

and the Angiulo Brothers, so...

- Ancient history.
- And you are?

- Zhang Wu.
- Jesus fucking Christ.

What happened to the Bureau?

When did the FBI become
"We Are the World"?

I got a mountain of
work on that affidavit.

I'm gonna order.

Hey, wh-what case
you working on?

Classified.

Ah. Hey, come here, come here.

Let me ask you something.
Come here, come here.

Hey. Where you at
with my old cases?

What's going on
with Trent Heinke

and that subprime
insurance Ponzi scheme?

Is that the affidavit Agent
Sweet and Sour's working on?

That's funny.

I had an uncle like you.

Used to say whatever
came into his head.

Turned out, he had Alzheimer's.

You ever wonder why your breed
of shithead is dying out?

Okay. Fair enough.

But, come on, what's
the affidavit for?

Like Wu said: classified.

Well, I sure as shit
hope you're not trying

to get a search warrant for
Heinke's home and office.

Why wouldn't we?

Aw, that paper trail's
long-burnt, trust me.

If you go to the magistrate,

come out empty-handed,
which you will,

your boss is gonna drag
your ass into the woodshed.

See, Heinke knows what
the fuck he's doing.

He knows the power of the SEC.

He froze his assets,
like, ten years back,

which means there's a whore's
chance in heaven that he's left

whatever he's been
skimming, tax-free,

lying around his house.

- Now, if you were to...
- Find where the money's moving,

give the magistrate clear
evidence of embezzlement,

affidavits for
consumer records...

- And...
- and work up to fraud.

There you go.

So, one good turn
deserves another.

You know anybody
at the city morgue?

- Carol, I can't begin...
- Why are you here?

Why is my husband fucking dead?

Why is he dead, and
you're still alive?

Carol...

Man...

the way Dad
protected that chair,

you would've thought they
were having an affair with it.

Every month, a fresh
polish on that.

Hey, you remember, the, uh,

the furniture cover
in the summer?

- Oh, yeah. Wow.

Like he was, like he was tucking
that fucking chair in for bed.

- Yeah.

Hey, uh, Lou,

- let me ask you something, man.
- Yeah.

Look, man, look,
I-I tried with Pop,

even before he told
me the prognosis...

No, no, no. I'm not
talking about that, man.

I know you were here, you were
doing the heavy lifting. I...

Lou, what would you
do if a cop you knew,

someone in your unit,
killed somebody on the job,

shot an innocent
man intentionally?

What do you mean? They'd send
it straight to Internal Affairs.

- They'd invest...
- No, I-I know protocol.

I'm talking about
you, Louie Ward, you,

what would you do?
Would you defend him?

- Tell me about the case.
- I just did.

Cop shot and killed
someone, with intent,

- with malice.
- Look, you want an answer,

I'm gonna need more information.

Under what context?
How do you know...

So, you would defend him.
You'd defend him. Fuck.

Why are cops always
so quick to line up

in defense of murderers
in their ranks?

Maybe because people like you

indict every cop who discharges
his weapon doing his duty.

Oh, so you think the prosecutors
should just let you run around,

be judge, jury and executioner?

Executioner?

What cop you're trying to
lock up qualifies as that?

The one who got pinned
down by that Campbell kid

- and shot back?
- Wow.

Or did you forget that he's
the kid who shot your wife?

I ain't forget a goddamn thing.

That memory is shackled to me.

You know what, I'm
sorry, Dee-Cee,

but it's hard to watch
you chase down every cop

like he's a murderer and a thug.

Makes me think part of
you sees me that way.

I know your character. I
know the heart you got,

but I also know that, if I
don't go after the killer cops,

then kids who look
like you and me

won't see their day
in court, all right?

I just want the law
to work for us the way

it's worked for them since
the day they wrote the law.

Civilians forget that
rapists, murderers,

and drug dealers are
committing crimes every day,

- pissing all over your justice.
- My justice?

I saw my friend

get murdered at a shootout

because the FBI
used him as a pawn.

My wife lost our child

because of a sick
person, as you would say.

Then I have to lay
my eyes on the body

of that young man because he was

extra-judiciously executed

by a cop who never
has, nor never would

stand between me and something
that wishes to do me harm,

so I don't want to hear you tell
me all about the fucking honor

- and courage in the blue line.
- Okay, so you're gonna

save the country by locking
up every cop in America?

Shut up!

I told you I want
peace and quiet.

Now, if you're gonna act like
this, you can both leave.

Sorry, Pop.

I'm gonna say this now

'cause I-I might not
get another chance.

Come on, Pop, don't
talk like that.

Shut up!

I've heard you both
have the same argument

for years now.

You're both right.

You're just too stubborn

to realize and admit that. Lou,

you don't think
about the whole city

or the whole country,
and maybe you should

'cause this is the only country
you're ever gonna belong to.

And you,

you need to wake up.

You're not gonna absolve Boston

of its sin and vice.

And the only reason
you aspire to,

in the first place,

is because it distracts
you from yourself.

Maybe...

the time has come
for you to figure out

what exactly

you're afraid to learn.

Dunleavy.

Oh, look, here
comes the traitor.

Get your fucking
ass over here now.

You're not getting
away with this.

Fuck you, cocksucker.

Two to one, Ricky takes it.

Hundred bucks.

Even odds.

You want to go?!

Victoria?

Yes, Letitia?

Your father and I would
like to talk to you.

Uh, all right, I'm
just about to shower.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

Let's go, Moustafa.

So, you gonna tell me
who tuned up your eye?

This? This is nothing.

- I'd go mano a mano

with the guys in my
unit every fucking day

if I knew I could make 'em
better cops, but I can't.

- And how's the other guy?
- Banged up. Thank God

they grabbed the baseball bat

before I could do
any real damage.

A baseball bat?

Jesus, Chris.

I'm thinking of transferring
out of the Youth Strike Force.

Wow.

What?

Thought you'd try to
talk me out of it.

Tell me I'm overreacting,

misjudging the
situation or something.

If I had my way, you'd
quit the BPD completely,

but the decision's not up to me.

And after seeing Carol
at Russ's funeral,

- I know what I would look like.
- Come on, Mag,

- don't-don't use yesterday...
- No, no, no. You listen.

Since you took command of
the strike force, I worry

every day about you getting
killed in the line of duty,

dying for a bunch of men

who don't have an ounce of
the integrity that you have.

And it's a short
line drive to right.

Sox are taking a whupping.

Better talk to your boys.

My boys? Far as I'm concerned,

Fenway is a black hole,

and I don't want
to get sucked in.

I won't even take the
Green Line past Copley.

It looks like there's going

to be a pitching change.

You know, Miller's been
struggling of late...

Plus, you know
Dee-Cee a Mets fan.

Who the Sam Hill are the Mets?

- Wow, Pop.
- What?

- Wow, really?

- Wow.
- Seriously?

As... Okay.

Okay.

Man, I guess you could've said
the Sox, so it ain't that bad.

- Stand up, will you?

Those are... What are
you talking about...?

I didn't know you were
a Sox fan, Clasby.

- Clasby?
- Huh?

You called me Clasby.

Did I?

That's why you should
never drink, kid.

Your mind deflates.

So...

All quiet on the Dryden front?

Actually, Mr. Dryden
was asking for you.

- Here I am. What's doing?

- Victoria ran away.
- Ran away?

She's not exactly a 12-year-old.

Yeah, lately she's
acting like one.

You saw the way my
daughter behaved yesterday,

screaming like a banshee.

I'll go search her bedroom.

It's locked.

I can break in.

I've seen you in action.

We'll wait for a locksmith.

Do you know where
the boyfriend lives?

What's his name,
Moustafa something?

- Mody.
- Mody.

How do you spell
that, Mody? M-O-D...

- M-O-D-Y.
- M-O-D-Y.

Do you know where he lives?

I have no idea, but he
goes to law school at B.U.

We called him. He says
he hasn't seen or heard

from Victoria since they
went out together last night.

- All right.
- Remember,

Victoria is...

unstable.

She's capable of
hurting herself.

- It's happened in the past.
- Please find her.

You bet I will.

No! No!

You need a break.

Come with me.

I used to be FBI.

I used to have to
follow the law.

Now I don't have to wait
for some federal prosecutor

to decide if you're
guilty or not,

so think carefully before you
answer this next question.

Last night,

you picked up Victoria
at the Drydens,

- and where did you take her?
- To a club.

What club did you go to?

The Loft.

What time did you leave?

I don't know.

Then why'd you leave?

If it wasn't closing time?

We were tired.

At your age? Imagine that.

Now, where did you
go after The Loft?

This is ridiculous. I'm
not being interrogated

by a rent-a-cop. I know the law.

You're not following me, kid.

This has nothing
to do with the law.

Victoria was yelling
at her father

about Dominique's drug overdose,

and you had something
to do with that.

- No. It's all Vick and her...
- Now,

I don't give a flying fuck

if you snort more coke
than John Belushi.

You tell me

right now why your girlfriend
was yelling at her father

- and where she is.
- I don't know about the details

about what happened
to Dominique,

but I can say this.
Vick and her father

have enough other battles.

Victoria is a Dryden, yeah,

but she's not the way she
is because she's spoiled.

Victoria made you promise
to run silent, and you did.

'Cause you love her.

Eh, I get it.

Love makes us all dumb shits.

- Hey, are you a law student?
- Yes.

Oh, you know, when
I was in law school,

I had the same kind
of work-study job

in the library, too, you know.

It's-it's tough making
ends meet, right?

- Can I help you find a book?
- Nah, I'm here on a mission.

My boss's daughter is
dating Moustafa Mody.

You know him?

- We have tort class together.
- Oh, yeah.

Yeah, good. Good.

Well, here's the thing.

My boss wants to surprise
Moustafa and his daughter

with this monster
40-inch Mitsubishi TV.

And I need to get it
delivered to his apartment,

but I-I don't know where
he's living these days.

- Over in Medford.
- Oh, yeah.

What's the address?

I can find out.

Like you said, tough
making ends meet.

I'd like to help, Miss
Quays, Mr. Knight.

The fact is, the crane that
snapped was up to code.

Still, Hernando
Mendoza was injured

working on the Big Dig for you.

That means you're liable.

There were other factors,
as we both well know.

Contributory negligence.

You want to talk
about negligence?

A boy's father is
brain-damaged for life

because of your negligence.

We've already been reassured

by the OSHA inspector
that the job site

met their safety standards.

By "reassured," you
mean you had them come

before you broke
ground in the spring

when there were no employees?

Hence no employee interviews,

no employee representation.

Now you're just making shit up.

The point is,

it was a onetime incident.

Any one of those workers

would tell OSHA that
the site has problems.

Whoever you talked to was
taking you for a ride.

Half those alcoholics come to
work hoping to get injured.

I think we're done.

Don't you fucking touch
me. Don't you fucking dare.

- What an asshole.
- Mm-hmm. Heck yeah.

- You okay?
- Uh-huh.

What'd he do?

Who?

You're looking for
the A-rab, right?

He's Egyptian, but yeah.

He's not home.

I'm sort of the community watch.

I bet everyone sleeps easier.

No dresses.

No tampons.

She's running away from home,

she'd at least take
clean underwear.

Dermo. Hey. Which
way you headed?

Uh...

Oh, yeah. My car's
that way, too.

Do you mind if I
walk with you a bit?

Sure.

When I was in sixth grade,

I had this teacher
named Sister Vinette.

Very cool. And she always said,

"You know, if you see
someone in distress,

just, you know, forget
your own problems

and reach out to them."

Look, you, uh, you don't have
to explain anything to me.

No, I know that, but I want to.

When a man is ordained,

we, uh... well, you know this...

we, we take a vow of celibacy.

And, uh, part of the reason
that I'm on sabbatical

is, uh, I violated that vow.

Well, vows can be pretty
hard to maintain over time.

I mean, you find yourself
in certain situations,

and you s-suddenly realize,

"Wow, maybe I made
the wrong promise."

No, I was drunk,
you know, but...

I can't blame what I...

I can't blame what I
did on the whiskey.

I just...

I just felt this need
to explore. Like...

Before I went into the seminary,

I-I enjoyed having
sex with women.

That night...

A fellow priest and I...

Well, you don't need
the details. Um...

I had the HIV test done
as a precaution, you know?

Like I said, fear
masked as confusion.

Uh, and now I have
to wait two weeks

to learn God's judgment.

Look, thanks for listening
to me, Jenny, you know?

- Oh.
- I haven't told a soul

what I just told you.

- You're a fine woman, huh?

Easy to trust.

Well, I'm honored by your trust.

Look, if there's anything I
can ever do for you, - just

please don't hesitate.
- I won't.

But...

Please, don't-don't be
too hard on yourself.

I-I'll promise not to be.

- If you'll do the same?
- Oh.

Don't let the past
badger the future.

What happened to us?

People change.

- Unlikely.

Prize, all-expenses-
paid, one-week vacation...

We're almost out of beer.

Tired of that rusty, old
jalopy in your driveway?

What are you doing?

I admire you, Jackie.

You do? Since when?

Since you started
working at the Drydens'.

You let the past go.

I...

- can't seem to get my bearings.

You're not still thinking

about your fucking
father, are you?

Jen...

we've been down this same
road, like, ten times already.

There's no pot of gold at
the end of that rainbow.

- I know.
- Do you?

Yeah.

Look, I got to get
some stuff for dinner.

What'd I do?

Nothing.

You're consistent that way.

You still upset
about our encounter

- with Thomas Kelly?

He was so scripted, so prepared.

Like he had that
conversation a hundred times.

- Mm-hmm.
- I think he has.

The job site down at the Big Dig

is only Needham Industries'
second major project.

Before that,

they were Dedham Industries
with a slew of OSHA infractions.

I'm guessing the
board of directors

needed to wipe the slate
clean, so they put Kelly,

a low-level executive,
on the rebrand.

Doesn't really help us prove
the company's culpability

- in the Mendoza case.
- I know.

So I'm off to the Suffolk
County Courthouse.

To request a subpoena?

Yep. I want

the work site log from
the day Hernando was hurt

and the most recent
records from OSHA.

Go for it.

You the guy who called

about your son's
lost credit card?

No, I'm the one looking

for an itemized copy
of my daughter's bill.

Hey, no refunds.

We don't run bogus charges here.

Did I say anything
about a refund?

You just checking to
see how much she drinks?

Yeah.

Being a parent sucks sometimes.

Our sweet little child
has started to lie. A lot.

Her and her boyfriend.

Victoria Dryden
and Moustafa Mody.

These are the ones
from last night.

Huh.

I'm not going through
'em. Not for you.

Not for Steve Grogan.

- Not even for Dwight Evans.
- Well, you might want

- to reconsider...
- Get the fuck out of here,

Methuselah. We're
opening up soon.

You raise our median
age level to uncool.

This is the last place she
was before she went missing.

I'm just trying to find out
where the two of them went

after they left here, so I
only got a couple of questions.

Like what time did
Victoria or Moustafa

order their last drink?

I'm not answering any questions
'cause I don't know anything.

All right.

I'm gonna make some calls.

I got friends at the BPD.

Go ahead.

So do I.

Cocksucker.

You forget whose
house you're in?

Siobhan's still
Christian, isn't she?

You don't say grace anymore?

You never were good at
counting your blessings.

- Dad?

Your whole life,

you believe certain things.

Then, with death

glaring at you,

you wonder if you were right.

Hey, talk to us.

- Hey, what do, what do you need?
- I got you.

- I got you.
- I'm A-OK.

Take him to the couch.
I'll call the doctor.

- No. No.
- I got you. Just take a seat.

Remember what I told
you. You better listen.

Dad. Hey, not this time.

Okay, okay, okay, okay. Hey.

- Hello.
- Hi.

Any luck finding Victoria?

Getting close.

The locksmith came.

Then her room is my next stop.

What are you looking for?

Uh, you know,
pictures with friends

and letters.

Victoria has no friends.

Not beyond Moustafa
and, well, Dominique.

Of course.

Hey, you ever hear of
doctors with bowel vision?

- No.
- Okay. That's a doctor

that specializes in bowels.

All he can see is bowel problems

even when you come
to him with bad feet.

I've been knock, knock, knocking
on the wrong fucking door.

Yeah, just a sec.

Oh.

Hey, Diarmuid. Oh,
it's nice to see you,

but what-what are you
doing at the back door?

- Uh, is Jackie home?
- No.

Okay, good. Look, uh, I
hope you won't be angry,

but, uh, my dad always said,

"Act first, ask for
forgiveness later."

No wonder his son
became a priest.

I know this is presumptuous
of me, but I just...

I could see in your
eyes, Jenny, that you...

Okay. I paid a visit
to your Aunt Lena.

I asked if she
knew where he was.

- Where he lives.
- Where who lives?

I went to see him,
and, uh, well...

Hey, Jennifer.

Surprise.

No hugs.

I understand.

You know, the father here,

he helped me see the light.

You and me,

we should have a talk

before I get my passport
stamped at the pearly gates.

Ah, it is great to
see the old place.

The house I paid for.

- Son of a bitch!
- Jenny, Jenny!

- Why did you fucking do that?
- Stop!

- Get out!

- Fucking prick.
- Easy, easy.

Yeah, go ahead,
get the fuck out.

Get out of here,
you son of a bitch!

It won't be long.

At least he won't
be in any pain.

Okay. Thank you.

I can show you out.

What?

Pop, wh-when we found
out Mom was sick,

I never seen you
fight anything harder

than I seen you fight then.

If-if there was a treatment
or a experimental protocol

or a one-percent chance
something could help,

you'd convince her to try.

I was selfish.

And afraid.

- H-Hold on.

I got you.

- Come on. I got you.

I'm A-OK.

You want to help...

leave me be.

- We already discussed this...
- No. No, we haven't.

I don't want you
to watch me die.

I couldn't leave
your mother's side...

wanting to be with
her at the end.

Afraid I'd miss her
moment, so I hovered.

Hour after hour, day after day.

Then I went to the kitchen
to get her a glass of water.

That's when she passed.

I came back,

she was lying there still.

Only then did I realize

she wanted to be
alone when she went.

I want that, too.

I hear you, Pop.

I hear you.

Fun's over, doll.

So, you and Dominique
were lovers or what?

Yeah, you wish.

I'm not here to defend your dad,

or even tell you that you're
wrong to want to leave home.

Ah, I seen the way
the two of you fight.

But that's fathers
and daughters, right?

I mean, uh, especially
a father like yours.

Our job, our old job,

it showed us how
fucked-up the world is,

and yet there's
nothing that he can do

to make you understand that.

Hey, listen, my daughter and I,
we... we had our problems, too.

We didn't fight, though.

We just never talked.

Benedetta overdosed.

It wasn't fatal, though,
like your friend.

Mr. Rohr, do you know

why I'm here in
Dominique's apartment?

Get over your grief, maybe?

I came looking
for clues to prove

that my father was with
Dominique the night she died.

You find anything?

An empty bottle of
1963 Lafite Rothschild.

Dominique could have
never afforded that.

You're not gonna
take ten tricks, huh?

Graduated law
school with honors,

still can't play
Spades for shit.

If it was self-preservation,
I could understand.

- What?
- Blue loyalty.

Damn, Dee-Cee.

On fucking death's door,

he asks you one thing,
and you can't honor it?

You know what, maybe you
were wrong all these years

about his stubbornness
keeping you two apart.

Maybe the stubbornness is yours.

Would you go check on him?

Thank you.

I closed his eyes.

Jackie, come with me.

Dominique must have
stolen this bottle

of Lafite from my cellar.

Close the doors.

I'm only gonna say this
'cause I wish someone

had said something to me
before Benedetta got hurt.

Your daughter is in distress.

She blames you for
her friend's death.

That girl...
Something bad happens,

she gets her mind
stuck on the worst.

She can't think of
any other possibility.

Were you with Dominique
the night she OD'd?

Are you interrogating me?

There were two wine
glasses in the sink, so...

Oh, that's a rookie move, kid.

And it doesn't prove that I
was there, because I wasn't.

And don't get all
high and mighty on me.

Back when you had the badge,
don't tell me that you didn't

occasionally pull a
little piece of ass

who was way too
young for you, huh?

Holly Gunner would
not have fucked you

if you were not in the Bureau.

I want to show you something.

Brand-new BMW M5.

A bonus for finding Victoria.

You're not a government
stooge anymore.

You can't be seen driving a car
that makes you look like one.

- Baby, I'm sorry.
- Why?

You didn't create death.

I missed you.

You know I'd have come sooner
if I knew how sick he...

No, no, I know you would've.

I... I-I didn't
mean it like that.

Baby, these last few years
have been long for us.

I been working so hard trying to
manifest results in my career,

even in our life together,

as if I could control
all the variables.

Shit, as if I even
knew all the variables.

I mean, can you
remember the last time

I even said I missed you?

Mm. That's never been our style.

Eh, your mom and my pop were
cut from the same cloth.

That's right.

Yeah, but no. I'm serious.

I'm serious.

I know what a life of
unsaid love looks like.

I should have been
here with you.

No, don't, don't...

It's-it's okay. Don't
feel guilty about...

I don't feel guilty. I...

I should have come so
that you can remember

you can share the
ugly times with me.

You try to lick your
wounds in private.

It doesn't make you
any less of a man

if you share when
you're hurting.

What are you thinking?

Can't I just marvel
at you a minute?

No.

- No?

Mmm.

Today, we arrested insurance
executive Trent Heinke

-outside his office on charges

of operating a
multimillion-dollar

- Ponzi scheme.

-As consumer records indicate, -

Heinke preyed on
unwitting retirees,

convincing them
to pull money from

their life insurance policies...

I can't stop watching this.

And the whole time,
I just keep thinking

Jackie Rohr should
have been there.

The Boston FBI owes a debt
of gratitude to the SEC,

which helped expose
Heinke's pattern

of embezzling funds into
his personal accounts.

No interest.

You all right?
You seem nervous.

Did you steal a car?

The BMW in the driveway.

I won first prize.

For?

Being Jackie Rohr.

There's something magical
about listening to music

in the city where the
composer set the notes down.

We never made that
trip to Poland.

Austria's close enough.

Vienna's three times more
beautiful than Warsaw

with half the potatoes.

Since Victoria
wanted to run away,

she should go to Europe.

We already dragged
her all over Europe.

Family vacation is different.

I'm talking about
studying abroad

for three months
in, oh, say, London,

where she'll get distracted
wandering around Harrods.

Maybe she'll even marry a duke.

The sex with Dominique,
were you careful?

It isn't where you start,
darling, but where you end up.

Isn't that where things get fun?

Having been married
to you for 12 years,

I can say with authority
you have a very unique

idea of fun.

I worked like hell after
my old man croaked.

Not for any emotional reason.

I just didn't want to die

a lazy sack of shit like he did.

Who told you?

- Still my city, Dee.
- Really?

'Cause I'd have
thought that era died

when they snatched your badge.

Well, for your information,
my badge is at the bottom

- of the Boston Harbor.
- You serious?

As the bullet that killed JFK.

But either way, losing
your old man is tough.

I know what you're
going through.

Let me buy you a drink.

You have no idea what
I'm going through, Jack.

Don't get me wrong... I
think you trying to empathize

with another human being
would boggle the entire

membership of the American
Psychiatric Association,

but we are nothing alike.

Neither were our fathers.

Let me, uh, get another
Hennessey, neat.

- I'll still take a drink.
- Hey, Phil, the usual.

You know, you may have been
a lot different than me

when I first met you,

but you're more like me
every time I see you.

My father was a good man.

Complicated but had
complex relationships

with the people he loved,
whereas you have told

everybody in this
bar at least twice

what a shithead your pop was.

Families, huh?

This family that
I'm working for,

they got a daughter can't
wait to be an orphan.

She's got a surprise
coming, huh?

- Mm.
- Death ends a life.

Doesn't end a relationship.

Hey, do you know that in
certain parts of India,

they dress up the dead in colors

that are supposed to represent
the dead guy's virtues?

You know, like-like
red for purity,

yellow for knowledge,
blue for...

Fuck, I can't remember what blue
is for, but here's the kicker.

Then the family
parades the corpse

through the streets of the town

like fucking Macy's
on Thanksgiving Day.

This is the shit you say to me
the day after I bury my father?

No.

Here's to Franklin Ward
and the son he raised.

- Sons.
- Sons.

You are loved, Pop.