All language subtitles for City.on.a.Hill.S03E05.eng

CITY ON A HILL

Jackie Rohr's suspicions about his
employer's sexual crimes intensify

when he sees Bette Williams,
drugged and incoherent,

being led out of the Dryden mansion
bedroom by Sinclair.

Bette wants to work for
the Bureau when she graduates.

She comes seeking advice.

Jenny Rohr beat her father
in a post traumatic rage.

No he's suing her.
Adding to her stress,

Jenny believes Jackie is being seduced
by Letitia Dryden.

- Sweet mother of God. Is that Letitia?
- That's her.

- I'm gonna go talk to her.
- No.

Siobhan Quays continues
to take on the corporation responsible

for the nearly fatal injuries
at the Big Dig

to her client Hernando Mendoza.

I'm Lourdes Mendoza,
Hernando's sister.

This is Pepe, his son.

I don't want you to worry.
I'm gonna fight for your family.

Decourcy Ward is in a uphill battle
against the Blue Code of Silence

as he attempts to prove
the innocence of a suspected cop killer...

Curtis Whitaker.

There's nothing physical tying me
to the death of Officer Andrews.

Nothing but the testimonies
of a couple lying cops.

- And a witness.
- The man kept changing his story.

Chris Caysen experiences
the pain every cop fears

when his wife Maggie, broken by the
danger he faces, decides to leave him.

- What do you want me to do?
- Quit. Stop being a cop.

You know I can't.

What do you want, Tony?

I'll tell you what I don't want:

to be taking shits in Allenwood for the
rest of my goddamn life.

Should've thought of that before you blew
a hole in Anton Campbell's head.

Sergeant Caysen,
we asked you to come today

because Tony has important information
we believe you'll find useful.

He's willing to give you
the name of the person

that killed both Officer Andrews
and Officer Dunleavy.

You're the prime suspect
in the Dunleavy murder.

Do you want to end up in a cell next to
Tony for a crime you didn't commit?

Fuck you, Caysen.

I'm in the middle
of a fucking election

that's making what's left
of my hair fall out,

and you come to me
with this fantasy?

Whitaker's innocent.

The only way to set him free is to find
out who actually killed Duke Andrews.

No, we don't make deals
with killer cops. What the...

Maybe we do, if Suferin's
telling the truth.

The problem is, we'll have to get Shimizu
to ask a judge to reduce the sentence.

And knowing that cunt,
she'll have a shit fit.

I'm not saying Suferin walks tomorrow.
We shave off a year or two.

Listen, Chris, I want Curtis Whitaker
out of jail, yes,

but Suferin will not get
an early release.

Let him go.

Dee? Dee?

You think I want Suferin out
on the street?

Russ Wallace is dead
'cause of him.

But I'm being investigated
for Dunleavy's murder,

and this will clear my name.

Look, Suferin said the two
deaths are tied together, right?

If he hasn't reported the murders up
till now, I'm betting a cop is involved.

Agreed.

And then, I got a lead on this witness,
Dwayne Doucette.

Maybe he can shed some light on who
murdered Andrews and Dunleavy.

And if he refuses to step up?

Just keep looking until
we find somebody who will.

I'm sorry, Dee. Tony Suferin
may be the easy way out,

but I'm gonna convince Shimizu
to negotiate.

Come on in.

I'm glad you were able to see me
on such short notice.

Yeah. Are you sure
you don't want coffee?

- No, no. I'm good.
- So?

So, as promised, I went to see
your da about the lawsuit.

At first, he wouldn't even
let me in the door.

But that didn't stop me.
I kept knocking.

And then, he agreed to talk, but only
if I didn't mention your name.

And then, after about an hour
of sports and politics and religion,

he brought you up.

- He did?
- Joe was a wee bit drunk by then.

He started mumbling a story
about you and him

sledding down a snowy bank
in some park.

I used his nostalgia as an opportunity to
say what a fine woman you are,

that you hitting him
was not intentional,

that he should drop the lawsuit.

He grumbled a bit,
and then he said "yes."

So he's dropping the lawsuit?

-On one condition.
-Well, of course.

- If you apologize.
- Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

My wife is apologizing
to no one.

You're the one that should be apologizing
for bringing that piece of shit

into my fucking house
without even asking me.

-Jackie, please.
-No, Jenny, Jenny, he's right.

I should've talked to you first.

But listen, Rohr,
we're way past that now, okay?

I'm trying to make peace between
a father and a daughter.

I'm trying to save you the time and
money of waging a battle in court.

I don't need to be saved
by a fudge-packing twink.

Yeah, you think I don't know that your
dick was playing hide-and-seek

with another priest's asshole?

Father Bender told me
every fucking thing.

I don't care if the Virgin Mary appeared
to you on the goddamn toilet!

You do not say that shit
to my friend Diarmuid!

Yeah, some motherfucking friend!

Yeah? At least I'm man enough
to admit who I am, good and bad.

Fuck you, Jackie!

Okay, okay, okay.

My father said he would drop the lawsuit
if I said I'm sorry.

Yeah, I heard.

You're not really going to apologize to
that miserable fuck, though, are you?

No, but I would've liked the chance
to at least say so for myself.

Something wrong with the deadbolt?

I couldn't remember if I had
locked them after Decourcy left.

What are your plans today?

I figured I'd spend the
afternoon doing touristy things:

go see the Mapparium,
measure a few smoots.

Well, we love you being here.

Feels nice, safe,
having more family around.

And once I'm gone,
how will you feel?

Why are you asking me that?

You, making sure the doors are
locked, the windows bolted.

Well, I'm just being cautious.

You know, after I was shot,
there were two versions of me:

one who lived every day
in that moment,

and one who pretended
the shooting never happened.

My head was so messed up,
hearing the echo of that bullet.

Like, I realized
I had two choices.

I could turn into somebody I didn't know,

or I could fight the confusion
by getting help.

Well, we all react to things differently.

You said you sleep fine, and that's great.

But as your favorite brother-in-law,

I pray you'll never have
the nightmares I've had.

Look, talking to a therapist
quieted my anger, my fears.

I love you, sis.

You say you witnessed the murder
of Officer Duke Andrews.

And you originally told police
that Curtis Whitaker had the gun

he used
to shoot Officer Andrews.

I did, but then, thinking back,
I remembered more clearly.

Whitaker took hold
of Andrews' gun. Bam.

Did he? 'Cause I hear Officer Andrews
was a big man, big, bigger than Whitaker.

Yet, Little Whitaker was able to wrestle
the gun out of Officer Andrews' hands.

How the fuck is that possible?

The element of surprise,
I guess.

You guess? Okay.

Now, Mr. Hines, when you looked at the
photo in the six-pack,

you didn't pick Whitaker out.

- That's right.
- But at the lineup, you did.

Tell me, what changed your mind?

He was the only suspect I saw twice,
so I pointed to him.

That made them real happy.

Them?

Them who?

Officer Plunkett

and his partner,
what's-his-name? Knoche?

Knoche.

-Hey.
-Hey.

What do you need?

What do I need?

What do I need?

Any surveillance cameras
in here?

- No.
- It's a shame.

I'd love to have a tape
of us on a loop

doing what we do right here,
right now.

Look how peaceful
the house is, Jackie.

Yeah.

I'd hate for anything
to disturb that peace.

You quizzed our chauffeur,

asking Charles about the comings
and goings of Dominique Zanghi

the week she OD'd.

Just doing my job.

You also went to the North End and paid
a visit to Dominique's parents.

If you can call them that.

Fortunately, they confided in me
and not in Sinclair.

Jackie,

you need to be careful.

You gonna tell him?

Sorry to interrupt.

I was just showing Jackie here
how much we appreciate his work.

All you'll get is a handshake
from me.

Maria picked up my tux and your gown.
They're up on our bed.

Yeah.

Fucking around with the boss's wife
right under his nose.

- Highly unethical, Jackie.
- Listen, Sinclair, we need to--

I'm just messing with you.

As the kids say, chill out.

So a tux, a gown.

You going to some fancy event?

Tomorrow night.
Fairmont Copley Plaza

for a fundraiser
at the Boston Police Foundation.

Letitia and I are gonna spend
the weekend at the hotel.

A little second honeymoon.

You should disappear Saturday
and Sunday.

Go be with your wife or whoever.

Let Braddock watch the house.

Sounds good.

I want you to deliver that for me.

Bette Williams, she's a fine young
woman, very reasonable, very sensible.

Hey, lady, you gonna buy that
or just smudge the pages?

I loved Dallas.

Yeah. Hey, who shot J.R.?

8I got it.

You're the guy
from the Drydens'.

I got something for you.

- Bette, who are you talking to?
- A classmate.

- It's your boyfriend?
- I live with my parents.

So, do they know
why you're getting this money?

They don't.

If I remember correctly, you wanted
to join the Bureau, right?

Not anymore.
Love can shitcan a dream.

You love Sinclair?

No, but, at first,
he was charming and funny,

and... he told me he loved me.

He lied.

And worse.

Okay, look...

I could get into a lot of hot water
for what I'm about to tell you,

but being paid off
won't make up for what happened.

It'll come close.

Mr. Doucette.

Knoche and Plunkett
stole my drugs,

then tried to intimidate me
into silence.

Said they wouldn't arrest me

if I said that they didn't take that kilo,
but I wasn't with that.

I don't negotiate with
terrorists or wannabe Klansmen.

All right, so you refused to
cooperate with Plunkett and Knoche.

You went in jail. Then what?

Plunkett came to see me in jail.

Said he wouldn't show up at my hearing
if I supplied them with more heroin.

Which you did.

I had a wife
and a kid on the way.

As soon as I got out of
that cell, I quit the business.

Mr. Doucette,
how long did you deal drugs?

Couple years. I needed
the money for culinary school.

You studied in Paris, right?

For a year.
That's where I met Hazel.

- She's a sommelier.
- What made you quit the business?

Like what specifically?

White cops killing us?

Not a surprise.

White cops killing white cops?

That made a lasting impression.

Yeah.

I was there
when they shot Andrews.

I saw the fucker die.

You seem like a decent man,

so do the decent thing.

Say that in court.

And be the next DWB?

When you was out there slanging,
you faced death every day.

Now, I can't predict
what'll happen if you talk,

but what I do know is
that you and I,

we can stop Plunkett and Knoche
from hurting people.

Our people.

Let me talk to my wife.

Hazel's always preaching that I should
do penance for my past sins.

Elena, I want justice for Duke.

You want justice?

And I want the husband
who slept beside me at night.

Well, finding the bums who killed him
won't lessen your pain, but...

Thought that Black guy Whitaker
killed him.

Thought he was behind bars,
waiting for a second trial.

He is,
but the case has got holes.

The U.S. Attorney wants to spackle 'em
before moving forward.

Is that why you're here?

Partly.

What do you want to know?

Did Duke ever mention any other cops?
Tony Suferin, Rick Dunleavy?

Gary Plunkett or Randy Knoche?

The last two, no,
but we'd go bowling with Tony,

his wife Amanda, Rick and Sarah.

Amanda and Sarah were there
for me when Duke died.

But the casseroles stopped
coming a while ago.

Wives keep their distance
from widows.

Hell, even my children do.

- I'm lonely.
- Yeah, I know what you're talking about.

A week ago, my wife Maggie left me.

You find me attractive?

Yeah.

Then sleep with me.

I... I'd like to,

but I'm still putting
compresses on my own wounds.

Okay.

When you're ready, holler.

- So you play with dolls?
- Last year's Secret Santa gift.

I didn't know
your tribe celebrated Christmas.

8Why are you here, Rohr?

I need you to dig up
some information for me.

I want to find out if there's any women,
probably college age,

who filed in the past year a complaint
with the BPD against Sinclair Dryden.

The Sinclair Dryden?
G-man, myth and legend?

Going up against one of our own?
Shit.

And how the hell am I supposed
to explain this to my boss?

Easy. Don't tell him.

And you want me to ask the Boston
police to open up their files?

Have you forgotten? The FBI and the
BPD are like the Lakers and the Celtics.

I couldn't get that information
even if my mother asked me to.

Yeah, you know, when I first
started at the Bureau,

I was just like you.

Kept my head down, didn't want
to ruffle any feathers.

That's bullshit. You've been
a showboater from day one.

And look at the result.

-I'm a household name in fucking Boston.
-Because of the Angiulo brothers?

That bust was ten years ago.

You know, it only took that one case to
make me the FBI's brightest boy.

We started by planting bugs
in the Angiulos' headquarters.

- I don't have time for this.
- Listen.

I heard a lot of stuff on that wire, but
not enough to make an arrest.

And even though I was told not to,

I went to see this
leprechaun-sized alkie named--

Can we just skip to the point?

You can play by the rules,

or you can take this silver platter that I
am handing you, and if you help me,

you will be the brightest boy
by Ramadan, I promise you.

I don't care about shit like that.

Come on.
Who the fuck are you lying to?

I saw you on television,
announcing that Trent Heinke bust.

I recognized that glint in your eye.

You love the spotlight,
just the same as me.

Maybe more.

And how the fuck am I supposed
to get the jump on this?

Lie, cheat, bribe, beg.

My personal style is all of the above.

Just don't mention my name.

The brightest boy.

Jesus. Okay.

I have all these bills.

I need to know something is
being done for my brother.

As expected, I'm meeting a lot
of resistance from the city,

the union and the construction company.

They won't admit to any culpability
for Hernando's accident,

but I am pushing as hard as I can.

I'm grateful for your help,
but we need money right now.

Needham Industries owes
your family restitution.

We will put a number,
a high number, on the suffering,

and we will get that money.

When?

I can't give you an exact date.

So many lies.

What was I thinking,
coming here?

So tight.
Clearly, you're under a lot of pressure.

Yeah, I can feel the tension.

Maybe you should find a job
with less stress.

- I'm sorry. Was I being too hard?
- No.

That's the spot
where I was wounded.

I'm sorry. I thought this would be good
for me. It's...

I was wrong.

Okay. Thanks, Libby.

I'm trying to get in touch with Benny.

She hasn't called me back
since last night.

She's not a cloistered nun, Jen.

She's either in class or in the library,
so just leave her alone, all right?

So when are you meeting with
the lawyer about the lawsuit?

Later today.

Maybe.

Maybe? You're nervous.

Why would I be nervous?

Look, I know how hard it is for you

to talk about what your father
did to you, but you'll see.

Ari Kruzs,
he's a good listener.

- Hey, you're home early.
- The Drydens are attending a gala.

They're spending the weekend
at Fairmont Copley Plaza.

Must be nice, living in
a fancy mansion on Mount Vernon

yet still being rich enough
to weekend at the Fairmont.

How did you know
they live on Mount Vernon?

You must have told me.

No, I didn't.

Well, Sue Stanton, then.
What's the big deal?

- Jennifer, don't do anything stupid.
- Stupid? Like what?

Like going over to the Drydens
and knocking on the door.

Oh, my God. Fuck you, Jackie.
I would never do that.

Yeah, you would, 'cause you got
this idea in your head

that I want to go back
to shoveling shit at the FBI.

And you might go over to the Drydens'
and stir up some other kinds of shit.

Well, let me tell you something.

There's enough shit going on
over there already.

The man I married
is still the man you are.

At least I hope so.

How the fuck did you get this?

Jennifer? Jen?

Shimizu refused to negotiate with Suferin.
She thinks he's lying.

Yeah, I know. I spoke with her.
For once, she and I are in agreement.

- Bully for you.
- That witness I mentioned?

He's willing to testify that Plunkett
and Knoche killed Andrews.

Now, we just need to lean
on the two of them

to see if they'll confess
to the murders.

Plunkett'll cave before Knoche.

Then he's our first stop.

How do you feel
about small spaces?

Concrete walls,
thick metal bars on the windows?

You come in here for a friendly
visit, and that's what you ask?

You know, maybe they'll give you
Curtis Whitaker's cell.

The fuck is he talking about?

We found someone willing to stand up
in court and point at you.

-Who?
- Poor Gary.

His legal fees
are gonna be sky high.

Probably have to sell this nice house
to pay for the lawyers.

Who's this witness?
Somebody I arrested once?

Good luck trying to convince a jury that
shit ain't payback for a righteous collar.

No judge is gonna believe a waste of
flesh drug dealer over me.

Have you seen my record?
Three Hanna Awards for Bravery.

Gary, we never mentioned
a drug dealer.

And you nominated yourself
for those three fucking awards.

Listen, our witness is gonna
testify that you peddled drugs

and shot Duke Andrews.

Coupled with the fraudulent affidavits
you had a junkie sign,

they're gonna be carrying you
out of Walpole in a body bag.

Question is: do you want
to be there all by yourself?

Imagine Knoche walking around free,
getting laid...

laughing at you.

I didn't kill nobody.

Not Andrews, not Dunleavy.

Testify against Knoche,

maybe ADA Ward here will split your
prison time with Knoche 90-ten.

Ten years? That true?

Anything's possible.

You know, it's not polite to invite
yourself into someone's home.

I didn't feel comfortable

having a conversation like this at my
office or at a bar

or anywhere remotely public.

Last year, the Dryden Foundation
started a college scholarship

for young women
from poor backgrounds.

The five women who applied
for the grant are Lucy Chan,

Angela Hicks, Irina Zhevakin--

Dominique Zanghi
and Bette Williams.

Yup, but here's the rub.

Irina was rejected after she filed a
police report accusing Dryden of rape.

A week later, she recanted.
Suddenly, the sex was consensual.

A woman's purpose is to procreate,
and a man's is to force her to.

Who said that?

I did. Unfortunately.

So, your father is charging you
with assault

for an incident that took place
on August the 20th.

According
to Mr. Congemi's lawyer,

they would like to keep
this case in the civil court.

That means your father
is doing it for the money.

Yeah. Typical. Yeah.

That son of a bitch just takes and takes.
That's all he's ever done.

Okay. So we settle or we don't.

Jackie won't give him a cent.

And you?

I won't give him half a cent.

Then we will need people
to testify on your behalf,

to confirm that your actions on August the
20th were justified.

Tell me,
was there anyone else present?

Yes, there was a priest.

Excellent.

- May I ask you a few questions?
- Yeah.

Did you feel threatened when
your father entered your home?

No, I don't know.
I don't know what I felt.

Well, did he say anything
or present himself

in a physical way
that made you feel endangered?

Would you consider this
an act of self-defense?

That, well...
That's a lot of questions.

I...

I don't know. I...

I cracked. I cracked.

All right. Yeah, but perhaps there was
an instigating factor

that led you to hit him?
Maybe something from the past?

Naybe we should do this
another time? Is that...?

All right, but the clock is about to gong,

and representing you without having all
the facts makes it harder.

So, when you feel ready...
sooner rather than later, I hope...

you come back to see me.

Okay.

Mrs. O'Brien?

I'm Siobhan Quays.
I'm representing Hernando Mendoza.

Yeah, the gal from the ACLU.

You tried convincing my husband.

Timmy can't risk losing his job.
We're barely hanging on by a thread.

Can we talk? Just for a minute?

I know how much your husband
would risk

by saying what happened
the day Hernando was hurt.

Yeah, the union would blackball him.

It's a long process.

If they do, I'll help you sue the union
for wrongful termination.

Yeah, we could lose in court.

Yeah, but if your husband
comes forward,

the Mendozas will be awarded
a large settlement.

His family is also
hanging by a thread.

Look, they're nice people, sure,
but I got two daughters at home.

Pepe's aunt can't afford
to house him forever.

There's a good chance the boy
might end up in foster care.

That might do real,
long-term damage,

depending on the family
with whom he's placed.

Just no way to know.

Tim's off today. Come at three.
I'm not making any promises.

Thank you. I'm very grateful.

Yup, yup.

Rohr residence.

Hello?

Hi. Yeah, I just got
a missed call.

This is the Copley Plaza?

Yeah, it could have been,
Sinclair Dryden.

Yes. Yeah, if you could
please connect me. Thanks.

Hello?

Hi. Is Mr. Dryden there?

No, I'm sorry. He's not.
May I ask who's calling?

This is Jenny Rohr.

Why did you just call my house?

I'm so sorry. I just... I must have dialed
your number by accident.

I don't know you, lady, but... I'm pretty
sure you don't do anything by accident.

Irina Zhevakin?

Special Agent Jackie Rohr.

I'm here legally.
I have F-1 visa.

- I have paperwork in dorm room.
- Oh, no, no.

I'm the FBI. I'm not Immigration.
Need to calm down.

I just wanted to discuss
a sexual assault complaint

that you filed against Sinclair Dryden.
Could you just sit still for a minute?

I need to study.

Well, correct me if I'm wrong.

You were unable to finish a
couple of courses last semester

because of a stint with mono,
the kissing virus?

Your F-1 visa allows you four
years here at Harvard undergrad.

Are you planning
on extending your visit?

I hope to.

I would like to.

I want to get my doctorate
in biochemistry.

Too bad that scholarship from the
Dryden Foundation fell through.

Please go away.

So, the two of you were
in the vent?

Yup.

Hernando was telling me how Pepe got
picked to play goalie for his soccer team.

The guy was so thrilled 'cause he'd been
training the kid for months.

Hernando was reaching
into his pocket

to show me a picture of Pepe
in his jersey

when the rebar came
through the ceiling

and went straight through
his plastic hard hat.

Did you notice beforehand that the vent
ceiling above you was unstable, or...

We complained the day before
that the conditions weren't safe, yeah.

We were told the problem
would be taken care of.

We were ignored.

Jesus Christ.

Alie, give Susie her doll back!
Now!

- Sorry. Kids.
- No problem.

Did Hernando drink on the job?

Hernando is a good man,
a careful man.

I mean, he liked to drink
but never at work.

He wouldn't put himself
or anyone else in danger.

Which is why his family
needs you to come forward.

You're their best, maybe only, hope.

Tim will do
whatever's necessary.

Describe
your activities in Roxbury.

Me and my partner Randy Knoche
were running drugs,

supplied by dealers
living in that neighborhood.

Well, describe your connection with
Officers Suferin, Andrews and Dunleavy.

They were trying
to horn into our business.

And how did you and your partner
react to that?

We told them to get off
our backs, they didn't listen,

so Randy shot Andrews, and we
pinned the murder on Whitaker.

And Dunleavy?

He was still playing hardball,
so Randy killed him, too.

He would've whacked Suferin if you
hadn't sent that jizzball away.

Fuck, I'm happy.

I am, too.

Plus, Plunkett implicated
Suferin in those drug deals,

so maybe we can add ten
more years to his vacation.

I hope he gets a pair
of beach balls up his ass.

Goddamn.

- Well, I have to go, I--
- Oh, yeah, you should go.

- I've always wanted to, but...
- It's beautiful there.

- Dermo.
- Talk to you later.

Oh, God.

What happened to your face?
You look like you got hit by a bus.

Yeah, almost. Fell off my bike.

- Did you see a doctor?
- Not yet.

Okay, don't tell me you're one of those
guys who waits three days,

hoping the pain will just go away.

Some pain never goes away,
Jenny, you know that.

Yeah.

Look, if... if I asked
you to make a statement

about the day
that I hit my father,

would you be willing to say
that my actions were justified?

- Yeah. Sure I would.
- Okay.

But first, I want
to tell you something.

I...

I don't know how to say this.

I am so sorry that Jackie found out about
you and the other priest and--

No, no, no, no.
I don't care about that.

Okay. Then, what's up?

This.

I've been wanting to do that
for a long time now.

Ms. Kassell, if you don't settle,
Mr. O'Brien will testify,

and that would cause Needham
Industries to lose a lot more money

in legal fees
and future earnings.

I don't think I can settle.

As I said, Thomas Kelly
is no longer CEO at Needham. I am.

I'll need some time
to review the documents

pertaining
to the alleged injury.

The Mendoza family
doesn't have the luxury of time.

And the injury isn't alleged.

Mr. Hernando Mendoza
is in a coma.

I'm moving as quickly
as possible.

Thank you for your patience.

Ms. Quays?

Watch tomorrow's
six o'clock news, Channel Four.

You're off the hook for Dunleavy's murder
and you still look like shit?

When my kids come over
to spend a night

and I say something or tell a joke,
they look at me like I'm Daffy Duck.

I've started to realize how much I relied
on Maggie to parent the twins.

Man. Which...

She learned Spanish to help
Julietta with her homework.

And goes to every one
of Aiden's hockey games.

I never even been
to a parent-teacher conference.

- I'm a shit father.
- No, no.

Look, every father probably feels this
at one time or another.

All right? Just...

I don't... take your kids out.
You know, go have fun with your kids.

Aiden and I were supposed to go
to a Bruins game Saturday,

but Maggie says he needs
to study for a science test.

He sucks in science, like I did.

Julietta's got
a new boyfriend, so...

she has no interest in spending
any time with her dear old dad.

Yeah, well, you know, shit, you can have
fun without your kids, right?

Look, Chris, there's a woman out there
who will make you laugh.

I'm not saying propose,
just buy a girl a drink.

So, with Doucette willing to testify,

I'll be able to build a solid
case against the two rogue cops.

I should hit the road.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Mass Pike will be
bumper to bumper right now, so...

Before I leave,
can I ask you a question?

Have you and Siobhan discussed
the idea of seeing a therapist?

To talk about the night
she was shot?

About the miscarriage?

Yeah, man. Yeah, you know...
I've brought it up before, but...

- I can't force her to go.
- Of course not.

Damn.

You know, I had a gun and a
Kevlar vest and I still ended up

with a hole in my stomach,
lying in an OR,

hoping to Christ that the
surgeon knew what he was doing.

Luckily, he did.

We heal from within, brother,

but not without a shitload of
help from those on the outside.

Look, do whatever you can
to convince Siobhan.

She is too precious to lose.

Yeah.

Yeah, this is Benny's dad.

Yeah, you're the roommate, right?

I'm sorry, I forget...

Libby. Libby, yeah.

Let me talk to Benny, okay?

She's not?

The Poconos?

Did you hear she's going away
this weekend with Faust?

No.

But like you said,
leave her the fuck alone.

Well, sure, if she's in
the library, but the Poconos?

That's a whole other
kettle of tuna.

What's the matter with you? You're as
nervous as a cat about to be spayed.

I went to see the lawyer today.

Yeah, Kruzs thinks
maybe we should settle.

Are you fucking kidding me?

After you told him all the sick shit
that your father did to you?

Oh, fuck.

You didn't tell him, did you, Jen?

Jesus.

What do you think will happen if I admit
that my father abused me?

My past will just magically disappear?

Look, if we don't pay
that bastard the money,

he's gonna come after me
some other way.

Okay? And then everything
will just come out.

Well, if you don't
tell him, I will.

It's easy for you to be the pillar
of fucking honesty with my shit.

But when have you ever
faced the truth about yourself?

And more than just saying,
"Oh, Jen, I'm a piece of shit."

You know? Be man enough to admit
who you are, good or bad.

Don't go quoting
that fucking fag priest to me.

I know exactly who I am.

I am the guy who is trying
to keep you, us,

from handing over our bank
account to that drunken creep

that you call a father.

You want to pay Kruzs's legal
fees for the next ten months?

Fine. It's coming out
of your pocket, Jen.

Yeah.

I don't have a pocket.

Hey, Jackie. Long time no see.
I was so happy to get your call.

- I've missed you, buddy boy.
- Yeah.

All right, well, I'll see you.
Why you got to rush off?

Come on, sit a minute.

Hearing from you,

geez, it took me back to when we were
kids in the old neighborhood.

How different life
has turned out to be?

Yeah, back then,
we were dumb as dog shit.

Dumb? Nah.

Jesus Christ, Red,
we wanted to be superheroes.

We wanted to be the good to
combat all the evil around us.

You remember, we even made fucking
capes out of our bedsheets?

Fuck...

Maybe we're still dumb
as dog shit. I don't know.

I mean, you look at me.

I'm doing a dirty job,
ignoring my boss's dirty secrets

so I can make a shit ton
of dirty money.

And the sad truth is
that, even knowing what I know,

I don't want to stop.

I want to buy my wife
a fucking mansion.

I want to pay
all my daughter's tuition

so she doesn't have to work off student
loans for the rest of her fucking life.

Does that make me a reptile?

Or just a human being getting by?

Having choices makes a human.

Choosing to stop Lex Luthor,
that's what makes a superhero.

I need help.

You finally figured that out?

You asked me to testify
at Suferin's trial, I did.

I split the truth in half,
he's in prison. You owe me.

- I don't owe you shit.
- Fine. Be an ingrate.

But I'm here about a case that could be
a big fucking bull's-eye for you, Dee.

Involving who?

Shit.

Goddamn it all.

I just love living on easy street.

- Is this about Sinclair Dryden?
- Yeah.

Fuck... What, he stop paying you?

Would make it a lot
easier on me if he had.

What did he do?

He drugged and then raped
a number of young women.

One filed charges and was
threatened into silence.

Another was paid off,
a third overdosed and died.

Jackie, I got a lot
on my plate.

Are you familiar
with John White Webster?

Beloved lecturer at Harvard Med,

had more financial problems
than Kim Basinger?

George Parkman, who was a scion
of one of Boston's richest families,

he, like many others,
lent Webster money

so that he could maintain
his highfalutin lifestyle.

And after a long time,
Parkman starts hounding Webster

to try to get the money back,
you know?

And Webster goes
fucking apeshit.

Kills the poor son of a bitch,
tears his body apart

in one of the most gruesome
murders that Boston's ever seen.

So, you're comparing
John White Webster to your boss?

Sinclair Dryden is worse.

He rips these poor girls apart,
but they got to go on living.

Is this about you wanting
your badge back

or about what happened to Benedetta?

Maybe a little of both.

But even I can't look the other way

when I see what this
wealthy come stain has done.

So you gonna help me or not?

Not.

I can't risk you fucking me over like
you've already done twice before.

Thank you, Katherine Preston,
at City Hall.

Now we turn to the Big Dig.

I'm here with Cassandra Kassell
CEO of Needham Industries.

Thank you for coming
on the show tonight.

I'm happy to
answer any and all questions.

Let's address the recent accusations
against your company,

regarding injuries and deaths.

Needham Industry prides
itself on making sure

its employees are safe,
both medically and financially.

Hernando Mendoza was injured
during his shift

at the Big Dig six weeks ago.

Prior to that sad day,
we had received complaints

about Mr. Mendoza
drinking while on the job,

so the cause of the injury
seems to be at fault with the fallen.

The ACLU says differently.

They anticipate suing you
for negligence.

Yes, I was contacted by Siobhan Quays,
the lawyer for Mendoza.

I should also tell you, I spoke
with a member of the legal team

from Ms. Quays'
previous employer.

Rawls & Goodwin say
that Ms. Quays was fired

several months ago
for mental instability.

The fuck?

The Mendoza family
shouldn't trust Ms. Quays.

She's not prepared
for what she's up against.

And there might be more unsettling
skeletons in her closet...

Are you fucking kidding me...
Are they serious?

- Okay. Just hold on right there.
- You've got... Come on.

I can't just sit on my ass
and do nothing--

I know, and you would take on the whole
world for me, and I love you for that,

but ...this is my fight.

My reputation.

You know her?

Not intimately.

But she's friendly with
quite a few of our regulars.

She's still on the clock,
if you know what I mean.

Whatever she's having is on me.

That could end up being a pretty
expensive drink, my friend.

- Morning.
- Morning.

May I help you?

Michaela Freda,
I'm from The Phoenix.

I'd like to ask you
a few questions.

I left my position at Rawls & Goodwin
to do public service here at the ACLU.

I don't know who spoke ill
against me,

but if they come forward,
I'd be happy to face them.

Noted. I'm actually here about
your late friend Lulu Harris.

I was notified that, in 1978,

you both may have played a role in the
hit-and-run of Taylor Malcolm.

Security.

Who notified you?
Needham Industries?

If you want my article to be balanced,
you give me your side of the story.

Were you or were you not
in the car when Taylor was hit?

I have no further comment.

You can throw me out,
I'm not gonna go away.

I spoke with Andrew Goodwin.

He'll be issuing a statement
denying the claim

that I was fired for instability.

Oh, great.

Unfortunately, that's only gonna
do so much good.

The honest truth has a hard time
erasing an ugly lie.

Show me how not to be afraid.

You ready?

All right, now keep your feet
shoulder-width apart.

Remember, steady your breathing.

Slowly squeeze on the trigger.

All right, keep-keep it at eye level.
Find your sight.

No. The gunshots remind me
of that night. I'm done.

Okay. Okay.

You know, before Louie left,
he suggested going to therapy.

He said that makes a real difference.

You know...

Anything to make the noise stop.

Okay, I'm here.

So, what changed your mind
about helping me?

Pity. I pity you, Jackie.

No one wants to talk
to a washed-up FBI agent.

Your investigation into Dryden
will only get you so far.

I appreciate your concern
for my well-being, Dee,

but I got a sneaking suspicion
that you got another axe to grind.

Yeah, well, we give too much power
to rich white men like Sinclair.

They think they're gods, invincible.

When, really, they're just thugs who use
their clout to control the system

or to control those
who have no control.

Let's show Dryden
how impotent he really is.

I love it.

Decourcy Ward
fighting fire with fire.

I'll light the match
and you stoke the flame.

But, Jackie,
you fuck me over again,

I'll hammer the final nail
in your coffin.

Fair enough.