All language subtitles for City on a Hill - S03E07 - Boston Bridges, Falling Down

Your guy in the FBI,
did he ever find Bette Williams?

Not yet, no.

Then Irina Zhevakin
is our last chance

to bring Dryden to heel.

Did Sinclair threaten you?

No, a policeman threatened me.

Which policeman?

I could use your skills
to investigate Sinclair Dryden.

Dryden? For what?

Drugging and raping
college women.

The good news is,

the bullet went
straight through your thigh

and only nicked
the femoral vein.

Bad news, gonna need surgery.

Is there any way
that Sinclair Dryden would know

that you're
secretly investigating him?

No. No, no, no. That was...

that was the Angiulo Brothers.
They set me up.

H-How could you be so sure?

Hernando is a good man.

We complained the day before

that the conditions
weren't safe.

We were told the problem
would be taken care of.

We were ignored.

There's plenty about Joe Congemi
you aren't aware of.

Uh, Mrs. Dryden,
this is my wife Jennifer.

So many things

have gone wrong in my life,

I, uh...

I don't really think
I'm worth loving.

You're wrong.

- Jenny?
- Hmm?

Last night you said
to wake you up at 7:30.

Oh.

How are you?

I don't know.

Peaceful.

Oh.

Ah, breakfast in bed?

Well, I didn't know
what you liked,

so I made a wee bit
of everything.

In 21 years of marriage,
Jackie never made me breakfast.

Well, forget about him.

For now, at least.

Um, I'll have the coffee.

Thank you.

Doctor says you can leave.

Get dressed.

For a second there, I wasn't
sure you were coming back.

Well, I always come back.

What's going on with you?

Something's changed.
You look different.

No, nothing's changed.
Nothing's different.

Oh.

'Cause, uh,
if this is about Letitia...

I mean, she's a piece of work.

I mean, I could see
how you could get

- the wrong idea.
- Please, just get dressed.

You know, I-I have this feeling

that today is gonna be
a good day for both of us.

What makes you say that?

I'm building a winnable case
against Sinclair Dryden.

Irina Zhevakin has
agreed to testify.

You said she's fragile.

Yeah,
the woman's been brutalized

physically and mentally.

Well, knowing
how sweet you can be,

I'm sure you'll get her
through this.

And you? You, uh...

you got Needham Industries
pinned to the mat?

Almost.

I finally tracked down
that operator

who was working the crane
at the Big Dig

when the cable snapped.

I need to convince him
to testify,

and I'm having trouble
with OSHA.

I can't get anyone
at the agency to talk to me.

I'm starting to suspect
an inspector named Owen O'Dowd

is taking bribes.

- Hmm.
- I wonder if a certain

Suffolk County A.D.A.
might pay O'Dowd a visit.

You asking for my help?

I'm there.

Hey, Roscoe.

Chris. I'll get him.

He's here.

Kids. Fucking pain
in the ass, right?

You worry about 'em day,
night, and in between,

and they don't give a shit.

My son isn't like that.

I hear you're working
for the D.A now.

Still a cop.

I wasn't drunk, Dad.

Let's go.

I said I'm sorry.

What more do you want?
A pint of blood?

When I was your age,

if I'd been arrested
for brawling in a bar,

underage with a fake ID,

my dad would've beat me
with his belt.

Go ahead.

I'm not afraid of you.

I don't want you to be
afraid of me.

I want you to be afraid of you,

of the damage you could do
to yourself and to others.

Oh, yeah? How about you?

Mom's in tears every night,

worrying,
wondering if you're alive.

Aiden, that's enough.

No. Do as I say, not as I do.

I'm sick of it.

He didn't mean that.

Sure he did.

And more.

Mr. Reyes, Siobhan Quays.

I'm representing
Hernando Mendoza.

I'd like to talk
about what happened

that day he was injured.

You were operating the crane,
correct?

Kindly step away, Ms. Quays.

I don't mean to trespass.

Yeah, your mouth is saying
one thing,

and your feet are saying
something else.

You know, there will come a time

when you'll need your coworkers
to have your back,

and Needham Industries
isn't gonna protect you.

OSHA won't protect you.

The union won't protect you.

So this "me, myself,
and I" attitude

is only gonna get you so far.

I don't need to get far.
I just need to get far enough.

I got family I send money
back home to in Puerto Plata.

Hernando Mendoza has people
right here in Boston

that depend on him.

Look, I'm trying to wrestle
something positive

out of this tragedy
so that Pepe will know

his dad isn't suffering in vain.

Last time, lady,
get off my property.

You ever experienced loss,
Mr. Reyes?

Had someone you love
snatched from you suddenly?

You don't have to be brave.

Just brave enough.

Ceilings are filled
with asbestos,

which has got to come out soon.

Or... I'll slap a sign
on your front door,

"Do not enter
under penalty of law."

Understood?

Inspector O'Dowd.

I went to your office.

They told me
I could find you here.

I'm A.D.A. Decourcy Ward.

I know who you are.

What do you want?

Just thought you'd like to know

that we might convene
a grand jury to investigate

instances of graft
connected to OSHA

and various Big Dig
construction jobs.

You see, my office believes
that these illegal activities

have contributed to multiple
injuries and several deaths.

What's that got to do with me?

Oh, see, this is
a courtesy visit

because your name has
come up a lot.

Like a lot.

Your reports rarely mention
unsafe work conditions,

even at sites
where accidents have happened.

So I figure
there's two possibilities.

Either this Owen O'Dowd is
really shitty at his job,

or he's up to his earlobes
in bribes.

Hey, I worked for OSHA 23 years.

I, uh, done plenty good.

According to the file, what,

you're two years away
from retirement.

A pity if you got fired.

Yeah.

But, uh,
no salary and no pension...

Tough way to spend
your autumn years.

Though I'm betting that you've
been banking those kickbacks,

so you probably got
a nice little piggy bank

stashed away, right?

Difficult to trace
but not impossible.

Someone could request
your bank records,

compare those
to annual salaries,

check for inheritance
and stuff like that.

Hernando Mendoza
could use your help.

Give his lawyer a call.

Today.

Hello.

Christ on a crutch, Rohr.

You nearly gave me
a heart attack.

You want to be charged for
the murder of a federal officer

on top of breaking and entering?

Well, it's kind of a pawn move
leaving your car door open.

Besides, you're not happy
to see your mentor?

You are not my mentor.

You are my tormentor.

And you got out
of the hospital alive.

Yep. Ready to go hunting.

For the clowns who shot you.

Yep.

And I'm guessing
you expect me to aid and assist.

Well, the way I see things...

...you owe me one.

I owe you one?

Or I owe you one. Why quibble?

The point is,
I got something juicy here

that's gonna put your name in
billboard-size capital letters.

With your name even larger.

Well, let's just say
that it's one of

those mutually beneficial
endeavors.

Come on,
have I steered you wrong yet?

The "yet" is what worries me.

Fair enough.

Will you put this boat in drive?

I can show you,
you can decide for yourself.

Let's find a Dunkin' on the way.

Come on, really?

You never read The Murders
in the Rue Morgue?

Nope.

The first great
modern detective story.

You could learn a thing or two
from Edgar Allan Poe.

Who, I might add,
was born right here in Boston

over on Charles Street South.

Pull over here.

A veterinary clinic?
Let me guess.

We're looking for
McGruff the Crime Dog.

When did you become
so sarcastic?

When in Rome.

Well, try taking after
my good qualities, okay?

'Cause you stink
at being a shithead.

Speaking of Rome,
this is the clinic

where the Italians come
when they need a street doctor.

The Mafia,
such as the Mafia is these days,

they got no better sense

than to seek emergency
medical treatment from a hack

who deworms kittens.

Fucking guineas.

No offense.

Italy is 2,000 miles from Iran.

And, as I've said repeatedly,
I was born in Somerville.

Mm-hmm. Well, I'm guessing

that this is where the jizz
stain who shot me was taken.

Okay. I'll go
and check things out.

Ah, no, no. I'll go.

Then what the fuck
am I doing here?

You're my cheering section.

Rohr? Fuck.

I thought the Bureau
had bounced you out.

Eh, back from the dead,
you might say,

unlike this pooch.

This past week,
did you treat a patient,

a human patient,
for a gunshot wound?

Well, medical ethics will not
allow me to...

Don't give me that shit,
you fucking fleabag.

Aiding and abetting a criminal
is criminal.

If I tell you, I'm the next
person laying on that table,

gasping and breathing his last.

And if you stay silent,
you go to jail

for practicing medicine
without a license.

What'd this guy do to you?

He shot me...

before I shot him.

Now stop fucking around.
Give me a name.

Who did the Angiulo Brothers
hire to assassinate me?

Look, I don't know anything

about any assassinations.

Okay,
I may have bandaged up somebody.

A name. Give me
a motherfucking name!

A thug named Danny Calvi.

Need a hand?

No, all done.

Who are you, Diarmuid?

You know who I am.

I do, yeah, on one level,

which I love.

But not the rest of you.

All right. Let me see.

I, uh, was born in
what's called The Falls.

It's the Catholic area
of Belfast.

My dad was a milkman.

My mum was a housewife.

I've got six brothers.

I'm the youngest
and the best looking.

I just found out
I have a half brother.

Yeah. My mother kept
the secret from me.

Uh, she says I'm better off
not even meeting the guy.

I mean,
why would anyone do that?

Do what?

Keep a family apart.

Sometimes a wee bit of distance
is for the best.

And if you think
your family are the only one

that has secrets,

I could tell you tales
of Belfast that'd make you weep.

But secrets are no better
than lies.

You want to meet him, don't you?

This lost kin of yours.

Yeah. Yeah, I want to see
if there's a family resemblance.

You know, maybe he likes
to sing like I do.

You know? Or, you know,
maybe he...

is doing something really cool
with his life.

Maybe he's living
in New York or Paris

or some exotic place.

But how would you find him?

Sue Stanton gave me the number
of a private investigator.

Well, if there's
anything I can do...

There is.

Come with me.

Okay.

Decourcy.

You know, some people,
in their office,

put a photo up of,
uh, Lincoln or JFK.

Wade Boggs.

You know, someone they admire,
want to emulate.

You have you.

A gift from my wife.

Ruth put the portrait there.

You're married.

Was I going to argue?

Let's sit.

I understand you're
investigating Sinclair Dryden.

Uh, that's correct.

Did you intend
to tell me about this?

Yeah, when I was further along.

Let's say
you're far enough along.

I want to hear the why.

He drugs, then rapes women.

That's a disturbing accusation.

Up to now, Sinclair's reputation
has been stellar.

Justice personified.

Doesn't make sense,
him abusing women.

What's your evidence look like?

One of the women
has agreed to testify.

We're hoping to convince
a few more to do the same.

We?

Chris Caysen, Jackie Rohr and I.

Rohr? Jesus, what is this,
thrice bit, never shy?

Jackie has an intimate knowledge
of how Dryden operates.

Introducing Jackie Rohr
into this equation,

that's the equivalent
of swapping

a political hot potato
for a hand grenade.

Well, sometimes the battlefield
determines the weapon.

Fine.

I'll give you a full coil
of rope on this, Decourcy.

What you do with that rope
is up to you.

Thanks, Rocco.

Hey, take it easy,
you guinea, bald bastard.

See you later.

Hey, remember me?

Aw, fuck!

This is the guy,
the shitty shot.

Daniel Calvi,
you are under arrest.

Uh, you're gonna need
a squeegee.

Well, here we are.

Jenny, I've been thinking...

Finding your half brother,
that's your quest.

You really don't need me
hanging around.

You have the strength
to do this on your own.

Yeah, I do.

Yeah, you do.

And you know that you do.

Come in.

Hi.

I, uh, called earlier.

Mrs. Rohr, of course.

You were expecting Sean Connery.

No.

I wasn't sure what to expect.

Please. Please.

Think on this.

When you want to find out
unpleasant things,

you need to go to somebody
who ain't afraid

to dig down to the bottom
of the dung heap, you know?

Stick their fingers
deep into the muck.

It's the nature of the business.

There's no pretending otherwise.

So, don't judge a book
by its cover?

Oh, no.

No, quite the opposite,
Mrs. Rohr.

Ask yourself if this is the face

of someone who can uncover
what you need uncovered.

- Mm.
- All right. Let's do it.

Uh, you mentioned
a wayward sibling.

Tell me everything.

Well, I'm afraid I don't
really have that much, uh...

Hell, I don't even know
his first name.

All right.

Thank you, Mr. O'Dowd.

Ward.

Just got off the phone
with Owen O'Dowd,

your new friend at OSHA.

How's my guy Owen doing?

What'd you say to him?

Or do I even want to know?

Oh, everybody fights dirty
while you and I follow

the Marquess
of Queensberry Rules.

They love coming at us with that
"Ah, this is Boston" bullshit.

I gave the man Boston.

Well, thank you for
whatever you threw at O'Dowd.

Now he's ready to throw Needham
under the nearest bus.

Excellent.

Babe, I-I got to go.

Hurry home.

I've been thinking of ways
to reward you properly.

Yeah, I'll be there
as soon as I can.

What's wrong, Sisyphus?

My son Aiden got arrested.

Drunk, disorderly, fake ID.

Ah, the gamut of teenage crime.

Kicked a guy, knocked him out.

- What'd the guy do?
- Aiden won't say.

Maybe he was just
burning off testosterone.

Sometimes he thinks
he's Jackie Chan.

Eh, don't we all?

The FBI doesn't like shitbirds
shooting up their fellow agents,

current or otherwise.

Ah, eat me, will you?

My papa's shitting in a prison
cell with the Angiulo Brothers

'cause of Rohr.

He's a seven-layer douchebag.

As true as that may be,

you and Papa will have
a touching reunion soon,

for the next 20 years.

Make life easier on yourself.

Who hired you to do the hit?

- Where's my lawyer?
- Stuck in traffic.

I ain't saying one word till
Cohen gets his Jew ass in here.

Jackie, get out of this room.

Nah, fuck that.

This jerk-off didn't
shoot at you.

Start talking.

No. I got a code to follow.

Oh, fuck that outdated
omertà bullshit.

The Italians ruled the roost
in this town for 100 years.

But you, you don't have
the stundeens your old man has.

You're nothing but a punk.

You act tough,
but you're a fucking punk.

I took you down
in one fucking move.

Your first day at Walpole,

you're gonna be fucked
in the ass

five times with Daddy watching.

Now, tell me,
who the fuck hired you?!

Mikey dealt with him, not me.
Honest.

Mikey della Porta.
On parole.

We have an APB out
on Mikey Green Eyes.

If you won't talk, he will.

Or he goes back inside
permanently.

Everyone snitches these days
to a little tune called RICO.

All I know is, the client,
he-he-he's a preacher

or a priest.

Something of that ilk.

Imagine a man of God bringing
harm on another human being.

- You believe the hypocrisy?
- What's his name?

- He's got a mick name.
- What, like Danny?

No, like a real mick name,

like Digmund or-or Donal
or something.

Diarmuid Prick
Cocksucking Doyle.

Cannot afford an attorney,
one will be appointed to you.

- You got it, Father?
- I do.

You know what
your first mistake was, Father?

Buying guns for the IRA from
a dumb guinea like Danny Calvi.

You're a sad man, Rohr.

You're a sad, pathetic man.

You motherfucker.

Oh, hi, honey.

What in the name of Christ
are you doing?

Oh, I'm just
a private citizen observing

the long arm of the law
extend itself

into the recesses
of the criminal underworld.

Total bullshit.

No, you arranged
for all this to happen.

I didn't arrest Doyle.
The FBI did.

The same FBI that you were
so anxious for me to rejoin,

and do you know why
they arrested him?

'Cause he hired
a fucking hit man to kill me.

Liar. Oh, you are such
a fucking liar.

I hate you.
I fucking hate you!

Honey, honey,
you're making a scene.

There's-there's children around,
with the swearing.

Oh, I am making a scene?

You just staged a fucking
FBI takedown, and for what?

Out of jealousy.

Yeah, 'cause Diarmuid and I
have a bond

you couldn't fucking
begin to comprehend.

Oh, I can. I can.

You're two thornbirds
yet to nest.

- Oh, come on.
- Hello.

Yeah.

Irina Zhevakin won't testify.

We're at a dead end.
Get over here.

- I got to go.
- No fucking way.

- No way!
- We can finish this at home.

Yeah, if I come home.

Oh, that's a threat
you'll never keep.

Yeah, maybe this time I will.

Uh-huh.

Ms. Murphy?

Sergeant Chris Caysen.

What can I do for you, Sergeant?

You're employed as a chef
at the Dryden house?

I'm the cook. Let's not be
putting on any airs.

Can I ask you a few questions?

Some may be indelicate.

I'm 76 years old.

I've heard
my share of indelicate.

This is about Sinclair Dryden's
extramarital affairs.

I'm told he brings the women
into the mansion.

I've worked for Mr. Dryden
and the Dryden family

ever since I came
to this country.

Sixteen years old.

My parents, dead as dead can be.

Ms. Murphy,
have you ever seen...?

Mr. Dryden keeps me on,

though I can hardly do
half of what I used to.

The arthritis, don't you know.

Ofttimes,
Mr. Dryden cooks for me.

This is my ride.

Glory of a day to you,
young man.

Ah.

- Thank you.
- Yeah.

Just made the appointment
with Cassandra Kassell.

Needham Industries,
tomorrow at four.

Okay. I think
I have everything I need.

A sworn statement from a worker

who was in the vent
when Hernando was hurt.

A sworn statement
from a crane operator,

who was pressured
to skip safety measures.

I have intel
from an OSHA inspector.

Anything we suspected Needham
of doing,

they did and then some.

Still...

I'm worried

that I'll let Pepe,
Lourdes and Hernando down.

People like to think
the law is absolute,

but, no, we can't predict
which way a case will go.

All we can do is our best.

Have I?

Done my best?

Ms. Quays.

Fancy meeting you here.

Stop following me.

I'm not as defenseless
as you think.

Who's following you?

Us connecting like this?
It's meant to be.

I don't know who you are,
but I know who you represent.

You're a middleman
between the Irish mob

and the construction union.

Harsh words
from such a lovely lady.

Save that crap
for the corner bar.

Threaten me, get rid of me,

there'll always be
someone who cares,

working to expose
creeps like you.

Nice running into you,
Ms. Quays.

I went to pick up Aiden
from school today.

The whole drive
I get the silent treatment.

I-I don't know what to do.

All right,
don't give me any shit.

I've been taking care of
business, settling some debts.

- Uh-huh.
- Well, no.

I-I-I've been doing
good deeds, mostly.

Jackie Rohr and good deeds.

It's just hard to think
of those words together.

So, what happened
with Irina Zhevakin?

Uh,
we can't push her to testify.

Not in the emotional state
that she's in.

- Oh, that's a crock of shit.
- Oh, really?

'Cause I don't remember you
pushing her when you met her.

J-Jackie, think about it, man.

If this was Benedetta,
would you want me to push her?

If it would stop Sinclair Dryden
from hurting another girl? Yes.

See, right now
I want to stick my foot

so far up Sinclair Dryden's ass,

he shits Italian leather
for a week.

But that's the difference
between you and me, Dee.

I do what I want
'cause my kind of justice

makes me feel good,
and fuck the rest.

No, Jackie.

The difference
between you and me is that,

in my case,
no one innocent gets hurt.

All right, girls, girls,
you're both pretty,

but time is ticking by.

So, did Irina say anything

that would point us
towards that goal post?

The first time I met with her,

she mentioned
a-a cop bullying her

into recanting her complaint
against Dryden.

Which cop?

She couldn't remember his name.

Oh. I can look into the files,

see who in the Department
interacted with Dryden

while he was working
at the Bureau, but...

I got to say, I doubt a Boston
cop would go out of his way

for an FBI guy.

That's the answer.

She's from Russia, right?

So Irina might not understand

all the pieces of
American law enforcement.

To her,
a cop could be BPD or FBI.

Dryden called in a favor
from a former colleague.

Any guesses who?

Eh, I think I may know
just the lying come sack.

Fugue State still in the lead,

with International Waters
coming up to second,

with Horseferatu pulling up
on the...

...nine and a half lengths
off the leader.

Taking third position...

Willie Ruder,
as I live and breathe.

Holy Christ.

Jack "The Mack" Rohr.

What the hell brings you
to Lakeville?

Oh, a little waft of nostalgia,

thinking about
my early days at the Bureau

of which you were
a significant part.

Dryden's number two. Okay.

Boston Strangler.
Blackfriars Massacre.

Crime was crime then.
Still three fingers?

Oh, yeah, sure.

Well, it's good to see
your face, Willie.

But, uh, I got to ask you,

why in J. Edgar's name are you
sitting out here in Siberia?

I asked to be transferred
to Lakeville.

I like the peace and quiet.

I hear you quit the Bureau.

Yeah.

I'm working private security
for Dryden.

Dryden, the best.

He was always there
for us when he was SAC.

Yeah, always there for us, and
we were always there for him.

Still are.

Do anything he asked us to.

No matter what.

Not sure what you mean.

Oh, I m... I mean

that little job you performed
for him last April.

Smacking down
that whiny Russian chick.

Nope. Wasn't me.

Oh. All right, sorry.

I, uh, must've heard wrong.

Yeah, I don't know
about you, Willie,

but when we were young,

I had clear eyes
about right and wrong.

Yeah, well,
somewhere along the way,

"right" got driven into a ditch.

I know,
but are we stuck where we are?

Doing shit that
we used to bust crooks for

when we were starting out?

I don't know.

I've come to grips
with who I am.

What about you?

Don't you want to feel good
about being FBI?

Sure.

"I will well and faithfully
discharge

the duties of the office

so help me God."

You got to come clean
about what you did

to that Russian girl, Willie.

Yeah.

We took that oath, didn't we?

- We swore to God.
- We swore to God.

I don't believe in God.

Not anymore.

Sorry you got to run.

The way I figure things,

if Rohr's asking
for all these specific details,

they're getting close
to nailing you on the rapes.

How much you want
to keep your fucking mouth shut?

Thirty thou more should do me.

You'll have the cash
first thing in the morning.

And what is this?

Early Christmas present.

A transcript
of Dryden speaking to...

Willie Ruder, the genius
that intimidated Irina Zhevakin.

Bird's-eye view of
their conversation.

No sound, but I had a friend
who's deaf read the lips.

You have a friend who's deaf?

Well, yeah, he-he wasn't deaf
when I met him.

No judge will allow this
in court.

But...

we can use this transcript
to break Ruder.

My thoughts exactly.

And break him into a million
little pieces, you will.

Agent Ruder, hello.

Leave me alone!

Just headed to my car, lady.

Ah, hey.

When'd you have a camera put in?

When you and Letitia were away
for the weekend.

Well, why didn't you tell me?

This was on
a need-to-know basis.

American-made camera.
Total shit.

After a while
they start to buzz.

You should have gone Japanese.

Willie Ruder has agreed
to take the stand against you.

I know.
I got enough crud on Ruder

to squash whatever lies
he's telling.

But you, you, Jackie.
You're relentless.

You don't give up
unless I satiate

an even greater desire, huh?

You want what I have.

I've always been
a generous man, so...

You had my wife, huh?

So tell me,

what more
does Jackie Rohr crave?

Well, as much
as it pains me to say this,

sometimes even Jackie Rohr
can't be bought.

House.

BMW.

Cam Neely's averaging,
like, a goal per game,

and that's with one knee.

I mean,
if not for Ulf Samuelsson,

the Bruins would be
the best team

in the whole league.

Aiden Caysen?

Yeah.

Get in the car, please.

- What-what for? What did I do?
- Get in the car.

- My dad's a cop.
- Do I need to cuff you?

Get in the car.

- Dude, what's going on?
- Officer, what'd he do?

What did he do?

Dudes, let's go tell
his dad or something.

Later, boys.

This is us.

To the left.

Right in here.

He behave himself?

Like a little angel.

Hmm.

Have a seat.

Why am I here?

To talk about your dad.

You don't want to hear

what he says about you?

- You want a soda?
- Nope.

All right. Get comfy.

So...

what does my dad say about me?

How much he loves you.

Yeah, well, I love him.

I just... don't like him much.

Why?

Because he thinks he's right
a thousand percent of the time.

I doubt that's true.

Mom doesn't like him much
either.

That's... that's why we're
living with my grandparents.

Yeah.

Aiden, look.

I've never had a son,
but I've been a son.

All right?
Uh, my father and I, we...

we-we saw the world from two
completely different viewpoints.

And it wasn't till
the end of his life

that I began to understand him.

And I think that, you know,
he began to know me.

Look, your dad is a brave man.

He's spent his adult life
on the street,

facing whatever comes his way.

Yet, despite the shit
that he's seen,

he's still an optimist,

which I find remarkable.

Now, yes, he is flawed.

As are you.

Maybe if you accept that,

you'll be able to meet him
halfway.

I can see why Dad likes you.

You bullshit better than he can.

There you are.

You took your sweet time.

And lo and behold, here you are.

What happened to
"If I come home"?

Ah, don't change the subject.

Changing the subject?

The fucking subject hasn't
been established yet.

Don't fuck with me!
What you did to Diarmuid.

Oh, for fuck's sake.
What I did?

Look, what's gonna happen
to him, Jackie?

Oh, the FBI and Milani
are questioning him right now

about some bad shit,

relevant to
his deportation hearing.

Jesus, they're gonna throw him
out of the country?

Well, that's what happens

when you try to have
a famed FBI agent murdered.

Don't flatter yourself.

Diarmuid doesn't want you dead.

Jen, you don't realize

what a phony shit bum
this motherfucker is.

You think you know him,
but you don't.

Yeah, I know him
a lot better than you do.

Father Suckcock confessed
to diverting funds

from the church
to buy guns for the IRA.

Another lie.
He used those funds

to send Father Bender
to fucking rehab.

Jennifer, face the music.

He stole money to buy guns.

Guns that kill people.

I'm lucky I'm not dead!

He doesn't want to kill you,
Jackie!

He hired two turdballs
to whack me.

If you don't believe me,

go down to the prison
and ask him yourself.

Maybe get him to swear
on a stack of Bibles,

maybe that'll get him
to tell you the truth.

That is if they haven't already
rammed a shamrock up his ass

and sent him back
to Dublin or Cork

or whatever-the-fuck county
he crawled out of.

Maybe I will.

Yeah, there you go.

There's the door.

You ju...
you just turn the knob and pull.

As a kid, I was afraid

of this old lady
who lived on our block.

A madwoman,
constantly ranting and raving.

Now I am that madwoman.

Does a moment define who you are
or simply happen,

then pass?

I know how I'm supposed
to answer that question.

Screaming at that poor man
in the parking garage is

something I did, not who I am.

When you saw him,
what went through your mind?

I thought of Decourcy.

He looked like Decourcy?

No, I thought about how painful

my dying would be
for my husband.

Siobhan, you aren't a madwoman.

Your behavior,
being easily startled,

the aggressive outbursts,
the fear,

that's a reaction to
the trauma you've experienced.

You think that you're in danger.

I know I sound paranoid,

but there are
very powerful people

who don't want me to do my job.

You saw the attacks
in the press.

And there's one man
in particular

who's been stalking me.

A stalker.
Believe me or don't.

I believe you, and I understand
why you feel that way.

What we're working on is
articulating the events

around the shooting
and miscarriage.

Facing your trauma
will allow you to understand

why you feel fearful.

What are you doing here, Jenny?

Corporal works of mercy.

You know,
visiting the imprisoned.

No, you came for answers.

Yeah, I did.

Yeah, I know you
haven't always been, uh,

the bedrock of honesty,
but I do have questions.

Then ask them,
and I swear upon my soul

I'll answer
with all the truth that's in me.

Did you order a hit
on my husband?

I never meant
to have him killed,

only hurt, 'cause he hurt me.

Hurt you how?

Jackie was the one
who broke my thumb last year.

And then, a few weeks ago, he
tried to run me over in his car.

So, I went Old Testament,
tooth for tooth.

Did you lie about using
the funds for Father Bender?

Mm-hmm, partially, yeah.

A third went
to Bender's recuperation.

The rest to the struggle.

So, you are in the IRA?

Doing God's work
doesn't always mean

walking a narrow moral line.

But I'm sure
you understand that.

Why would I?

How much do you know
about your husband's activities?

Jackie hides everything from me.

The man who calls himself
your husband,

he doesn't honor you,
but you stay with him.

That's a choice of convenience.

I don't stay with Jackie
out of convenience.

I gave my daughter a home
with two parents

who push through their shit
to still take care of her.

I wasn't gonna be my mother.

Neglecting your own happiness.
Is that a life, Jenny?

Oh, is this?

Yeah, you have me there.

I'm in no position to preach,
but I can give advice.

Walk away.

Yeah, where would I go?

I don't know,
to New York City, to Paris,

- to Belfast even.
- Go with you?

Yeah.

Look, here's the sacred truth.

The night
that we spent together...

that'll stay with me forever.

Yeah.

Yeah, me, too.

Time to go.

- Goodbye, darling Jenny.
- Goodbye.

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.
Let's go, let's go, let's go.

Bye, Grandma.

Thanks for the ride.

You're welcome.

We have several
unimpeachable sources

who can testify to
your corporation's malfeasance.

Perhaps, Ms. Kassell,

that makes your position
a little murkier.

You're not the first lawyers

to threaten Needham Industries.

That says more about you
than us.

The last time
this company was sued,

did the plaintiffs
have several witnesses

testifying to
job site negligence,

backed by a compromised
OSHA inspector?

You don't have those documents,

as none of
those instances occurred.

We do have those documents,

as does the prosecutor's office.

Oh, you mean your husband.

I said what I meant.

If we were
to compensate Mendoza...

Hernando Mendoza and his family.

What number are we looking at?

Given there's
a teenager involved,

on top of the ongoing
lifetime medical costs,

eight figures.

Don't be ridiculous.

Perhaps you have a figure
in mind, Ms. Kassell?

- Mid-seven figures.
- High seven figures.

- Six million.
- Nine million.

- Seven.
- Nine.

And I'll keep saying nine
until we reach the next century.

Number one,

the company will not take
responsibility publicly.

Number two,

all parties will sign
a nondisclosure agreement.

Agreed.

We'll have the NDA drawn up.

We'll review upon receipt.

Good day to you both.

Why were you so quick
to accept the NDA?

As you well know,

the Mendoza family
needs the money now.

Relieving their stress is
more important

than haggling over the NDA.

Still, the people in this city
need to know

how our tax dollars
are being spent,

and Needham's bad acts
have to be exposed.

I'm going to find
a legal loophole around the NDA.

Nine million.

Today turned out to be
a good day.

A good day indeed.

Oh, geez.

Door's open, come on in!

Mrs. Rohr?

Yeah.

Ah, I have news, uh,
regarding your half brother,

whose name, by the way,
is Joe Congemi Jr.

- Wha... You found him?
- I did, I did, of course I did.

Uh, he is a patient

at the Hembree Psychiatric
Institute in Vermont,

and he has been since, uh, '85.

Sweet Mother of God.
So, he's mentally ill?

I-I discovered
a psych evaluation

from a different hospital,
uh, from 1980,

which indicates he had suffered
from severe bipolar disorder.

- How is he now?
- Ah, the Hembree Institute won't

release any information
on his current condition.

But I'm-I'm working on it,
I'm working on it.

Here's what else I do know.
Joe is 60.

He's been in and out
of the loony bins

pretty much his whole life.

He even spent some time
up in Bridgewater,

- which I'm sure you know is...
- Is a cesspool.

He has been put
into social isolation.

He has been subjected

to experimental
psychotropic drugs.

Uh, he even received
some shock treatment.

- Oh, God, that's horrible.
- Truly.

But here's the good news,
Mrs. Rohr.

From what I can glean,

uh, given everything,
all the treatments,

he seems relatively stable now.

So...

was it my father who put him
into a mental institution?

No. His mother did.

And then, basically,
she just walked away.

That's for you,
and you know where to find me.

Thanks.

Me being a cop
doesn't bother you?

I fuck cops all the time, papi.

At least
you didn't ask for a freebie.

Where you from in Costa Rica?

You don't do this much, no?

You're the second woman
I've slept with

since my wife left.

Trust me, I won't be the last.

What I don't get, papi,
is why you pay for sex

when it's something you can
easily have for free.

Enough with the "papi."

And the reason is...

...all the women I know
are married mothers

and my relatives or colleagues.

Sometimes
sex is better with someone

who knows nothing about you.

More will cost you.

I'm here to see
the madam of the house.

What, you forgot your keys?

Gave 'em to a homeless guy.

You probably know this,
but I'm working with the D.A.

to build a case
against Sinclair.

This is gonna get bad,
as in real bad.

And so I thought,
because of what we shared,

whatever we shared...

...I should probably come by
and tell you

that from what I've seen
and heard,

you are complicit in your
husband's sexual high jinks.

So you might want to talk to me.

The only friend you got.

Oh, is that what you're doing

at the moment, Jackie?

Being my friend?

I thought
we were more than that.

Letitia, you seduced me.

Which, I got to admit,

I liked being
the one seduced for a change.

But letting your husband do
what he's been doing,

nah, that turns me off.

Jackie, you and I fuck
on a regular basis.

You cheat on your wife.

So, please,

just spare me your climb up
to the moral high ground.

Believe me,
I got plenty of guilt

for my share in this.

But here's the thing,

you and I,

we don't have to drug each other
to bump uglies.

In the great whirlwind of life,

there are always
alternative solutions.

So...

what are
our alternative solutions?

Well... Oh, no, no, no.

I didn't come here for a bribe.
No.

Otherwise I would've worn
my good suit.

No, you misunderstand.

What if...

together we expose Sinclair?

You become master of this house.

You divorce Jenny,
who makes you miserable.

We get married.

Live in glorious Technicolor.

Jesus Christ.

Letitia...

I came here to save you,

not to fucking marry you.

Wow.

I thought I came
from a fucked-up family.

I made a fucked-up family
of my own,

but you people,
you take the Carvel cake.

All I want to do right now is
go home to my wife

and pretend I never met you.

Listen, you fucking weasel.

You better understand,
quaaludes or no quaaludes,

I will stand with
and defend my husband.

And in the process
we will ruin you.

Mm.

Yeah, well, you know,

I've done a pretty good job
of that myself.

But if you want to try,

go ahead, take a shot.

He says to go right in.

Ah, Decourcy, there you are.

You know Sinclair Dryden,
don't you?