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So, what does Nietzsche mean when he says,

"The secret for harvesting from existence

the greatest fruitfulness,
the greatest enjoyment

is to live dangerously!

Build your cities
on the slopes of Vesuvius!

Send your ships into uncharted seas!

Live at war with
your peers and yourselves!"

What is he getting at here?

Anybody?

Sylvia.

It sounds like he's saying you have to
put yourself out there.

You have to take risks
and get out of your comfort zone

because life is short.

You have to live passionately
and on your own terms.

Well, I have
a three-word response to that.

Ab-so-lutely.

Says the guy driving a Civic.

I know on the surface
my life looks simple, a little plain.

A guy feeding birds
and living alone with his cats

in the suburbs, but I liked my inner life.

I was pretty happy.

...At least, content.

Oh, by the way, my name is Gary Johnson,
and for a few years,

I'd been teaching psychology
and philosophy classes

at the University of New Orleans.

While I'd always enjoyed
living in a world of questions and ideas,

I also had a flair for all
things electronic and digital

and found myself supplementing my income

- by working part-time undercover...
- Hey, Gary!

...with the New Orleans Police Department.

After some obligatory training,

I was soon hiding cameras, mics,
and getting good recordings,

mostly in murder-for-hire cases.

What can I say?

I was minding my own business
when my life took the oddest of turns.

Jasper better watch
his ass with this Craig guy.

Several assault charges, possession...

Hey, Gary.

Look, we just heard. Jasper can't go in.

Chief officially suspended him
for those teenagers he jacked up.

Finally.

Anyway, we're thinking you're up.

I'm up? What is "up"?

Congrats, Gary, you just got
promoted to contract killer.

Oh, well, you reschedule.

He's not even here yet.

Hitmen don't cancel the first meeting.

Hitmen?

Hitmen don't exist.

What, are we following
made-up rules now?

You've seen this a million times.
You can do it.

Why don't you do it?

No way. Tried years ago,
almost got killed.

I don't want to almost
get killed either. Okay?

I'm a civilian.

We got your back.

We'll move in if it starts
getting pear-shaped.

Clock's ticking,
I need you to grab Jasper's wire.

And you might want to
check this out real quick.

That is everything we know so far, Billy.

- What?
- Your alias.

"Billy." Let's go.

Oh, my God, I'm gonna die.

What a bunch of cancel culture bullshit...

I'm sorry about this, Jasper.
So, Claude sent me to...

You know, a lot of people were fine
with what I did, given the circumstances.

They actually had no problem with it.

If you read the comment section,
it's like two-to-one my side.

That sucks.

Fuck 'em.

A 120-day suspension with pay. Fuck.

Fuckin' fine with me.
I'm going fishin', motherfuckers.

I'll spend the whole summer in Pensacola.

See how everyone around here
does without me.

Why are you in my car?

Well, Claude said to get
your mic and transmitter.

So, who's going in my place?

You?

Right?

Wow.

I just feel like
there's better candidates.

Yeah, yeah.

Eh... makes sense.

You have this unreadable face,
perfectly forgettable.

I know.

So, I've been listening
on these for a while.

You know, I kinda know what to say, but...

any wisdom? Or tricks?

Bottom line, they gotta believe it. Okay?

They want you to be this killer,
so you gotta be that.

You can't show any weakness.
It's... it's constant aggression

until you hear the words
out of their mouth.

Got it.

But you gotta be relaxed.

Easy breezy.

All right, so, I'm looking for...

...like, I'm trying to...

Your job is to put
these assholes in prison.

- What's up, Claude?
- New Billy's got to make moves.

- Craig's here.
- All right.

Oh, man...

You only get one first impression.
Don't fuck it up.

You're not wearing those
in there, are you?

Honestly, these are pretty good, man.

They breathe really well.

Yeah. Oh.

Hah!

You're Billy.

You're a killer!

You kill...

for a living!

Picked a bad table.
Grab your shit. Sit down.

Listen, this whole thing's
gotta be based on trust.

Yeah, man.

No shit.

So, uh...

...how long you been doin' this?

That's none of your fuckin' business.

Oh, shit. Look at Gary.

You called me to do a job.

The man is a natural.

Playing some offense here.

You don't know me, I don't know you,
and at some point in the future,

that's gonna be a good thing.

We're not going to be friends. You got it?

Got it.

Breathe... Think hitman thoughts.

- So...
- So...

...you're assessing me.

Am I the right guy
to eliminate your problem?

And, just so you know,
I'm assessing you, too.

Are you full of shit?

Some big talker who's not serious?

And if you are serious now,
are you one day gonna find Jesus

and be so overburdened
by guilt and remorse

and confess your sins?

Are you gonna crack under pressure, Craig,

and are you gonna point
a fucking finger at me?

Never!

Fuck, man, never.

In fact, I got it all worked out already.

Okay.

Let's hear it.

I work a seven and seven,

so starting this coming Tuesday,
which is crew-change day outta Houma,

every second of my whereabouts
is documented and accounted for.

Huh?

That way, uh, anything, uh...
bad were to happen,

no one could think I did it, right?

Not Craig, uh-uh,

cause Craig is out
on an oil rig, isn't he?

A hundred and twenty miles out
in the Gulf the whole damn time.

What do you think about that?

That's a good plan.

Yeah.

All right, I'd say Thursday or Friday
is probably the best time.

Sounds good.

So, what are you thinking exactly?

You know, just take care of 'em?

What does that mean, exactly?

C'mon, man.

You know what it means.

No, he just needs to go away for good.

So, what's your proximity afterwards?

What do you mean?

Going to the funeral?

Funeral?

In my ideal world,

there wouldn't have to be
a funeral, would there?

So, no funeral?

Dude, I'm sorry, but...

Oh, boy.

Are we actually talking about
the same thing here?

Going off the rails here.
C'mon, let's get back on track, Gary.

The reason I'm asking
is because it sounds to me

like you're talking about
the disposal of a body,

which is more risky for me.

Gotcha... Yeah.

A faked suicide, botched robbery,
I'm in and out.

What you're talking about requires me
to spend a lot of time with the body

to make sure it's never discovered.

Right. I'm just curious...

How you do that?

Look, I'll let you in
on a few of my secrets.

- Yeah.
- I got different ways, but...

in this case,

I'll probably go full on,

separate the head from the body,
do what I like to call a "bayou burial."

You know Bayou Gauche?

Sure do.

My family's got land out there,
so, late at night,

I'll drift in undetected,
drift out in a little boat,

let the alligators take it from there.

I mean, are we talking about the body...

or the head?

Body.

Head...

Head is a different story.

Head means teeth.

Teeth are a fuckin' problem.

Dental records, right?

Okay.

So, what do you do about that?

Well, I find a spot
in the middle of nowhere,

stick of dynamite in the mouth...

No more teeth, no more problem.

- You just blow that fucker up, huh?
- Mm.

Goddamn.

Wow.

Hey, what about fingerprints, huh?

I mean, those are kinda like teeth, right?
I mean, they can identify from that?

What do you do about that?

I can tell you're very thorough
in your thinking,

- which is good.
- Hmm.

Now, in case the headless,
uneaten body is discovered,

which has never happened
with me, but, yeah...

no more fingertips.

I would have already removed those
and dispersed them separately.

Sounds kind of weird, but... I got a ritual.

So, I divide the number of miles
by the number of fingers,

so when I'm driving out to a location,
in this case 50 miles...

I roll down the window,
toss one out every five miles or so.

Just toss them fingers out the window...

Shit, man, you're the...

you're the real deal, aren't ya?

Yeah.

And by the way,

I'm not running a fuckin' charity here.

Did you bring the cash?

Oh, shit, yeah. No, of course.

I've got, uh, 2,500, uh, cash now,

and, uh, I give you
the other 2,500 after, right?

Great.

Now, I just need
your absolute final sign-off.

We're entering a contract here

you won't be able to walk away from
in about a week.

So, I need you to look me in the eyes,

and I need to hear the words
out of your mouth right now.

Chill. I just...

I just thought that we, you know,
agreed to it already, but, yeah.

Look man, I-I want you to off this guy

in... whatever way suits you best.

Got him.

I knew it.

We'll be in touch.

I gotta say, man,

hell of a profession you're in.

Yep.

The next time you see me,
you'll have a brand-new life.

I guess so.

Freeze! Put your hands up!

Go, go, go, go.

- What the fuck?
- Let me see your hands.

- Turn, let me see your hands.
- The fuck did I do?

Huh? Fuck! Fuckin' hands off...

You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can and will

be used against you in a court of law.
You have the right to an attorney.

If you so desire, and cannot afford one,
one will be appointed to you by the court.

- Do you understand these rights?
- Motherfucker.

I understand you should
go fuck yourself. How about that?

You got him. Good job.

Hey!

Okay, Daniel Day!

Nailed that fucker.

You got the cash, got the right
words out of him, sheesh!

- So that was good?
- Yeah!

You got him, man! Great job, Gary.

That was so smooth.
Who was that guy in there?

I don't know.

Open and fuckin' shut.
You might have just saved a life.

How's that feel?

Feels good. Feels really good.

Hey, can I have my pants back now?

Yeah.

God, you guys are weird.

Hey, Gary.

Does your family
really have land out on the bayou?

Oh, no, I made that part up.

I have been out there a few times birding.

- Birding?
- Yeah.

You don't say?

You know, I once saw, uh, three
pileated woodpeckers at the same time.

Wh... Uh, pileated?

Yeah.

Just these big beautiful
kinda pterodactyl-looking guys.

Technically, it's the first cousin
to the elusive ivory-bill.

Which there was a rumored
sighting of back in 2005,

first in over a hundred years.

Caused a big stir,
'cause most people think they're extinct,

but others think
they might have just developed

a successful strategy to avoid people.

Can we turn up the air, Phil?

Well, great work, Gary.

Yeah, man.

All right, bye.

Oh, jeez.

Bye.

Do you think he knows he was being funny?

I don't think so,
but it's hard to tell with Gary.

You know, that throwing fingertips
out the window every five miles...

- Who even thinks something like that up?
- That's some specifically twisted shit.

I mean, it's safe to say
we got our new hitman,

at least until Jasper gets back.

120 days, that's too soon, if you ask me.

Yeah, 'cause Jasper's a dick.

You know, people feel
almost disappointed to learn

that hitmen don't really exist.

This idea that there are
people out there at a retail level

you can just hire to eliminate
your worst relationship issues

or facilitate some money scheme,
or the usual combination of both.

It's a total pop culture fantasy.
But because hitmen

have been a staple of books,
movies, and TV for the last 50 years,

good luck getting anyone to believe
their existence is all a myth.

But of course, my job was
not to debunk the fantasy,

but rather become the fantasy.

And I took that part of the job
very seriously.

While I wasn't the kind of person
that could ever get worked up enough

to want to kill or die for anything,
maybe they had cast me correctly

because the one thing
that had prepared me for my new job

was my primary interest:

the eternal mystery of human
consciousness and behavior.

So, I, uh...
got your number...

from a friend.

Heard we should meet.

Sounds like you got a particular
set of skills and what not.

Uh... shit.

There was something else
I was supposed to say.

Well...

I'm sure you're picking up
my drift here of the nature of...

Anyway, just call me back.

My name's Walt.

Uh...

How's the pie?

All pie is good pie.

All right.

So...

what's next?

You know, I'm forever fascinated
and amazed by the folks

who actually think that some guy
they just met ten minutes ago,

for not that much money,
would risk the death penalty

to help them with some
crazy murderous scheme.

I almost envy their naïveté and passion.

You know, it doesn't matter
who you asked about finding a hitman...

So, you know I've, uh...
been looking for somebody

to help me out with a, uh...
little problem that I'm having lately.

I figured you knew somebody
in that line of work.

I can ask around.

All right.

I don't know how serious he was,

but dude was hella sketchy.
And I was scared.

The referral usually
finds its way to the police.

Who make sure they get my number.

You need to roll your tongue hard. Rrrrr...

I realized not everyone fantasized
about the same fixer.

So, I found tailoring the hitman
to the individual client

was much more effective.

And I had a knack for being
the person they needed me to be.

♪ I'm so fucked up
I see murders selling in the park ♪

We got our album coming up soon,
all the drama and everything from that

is only gonna be good for us.

He beefin' with this cat
named Rob49, like this...

He this real gangster motherfucker.

So, I feel like everybody
gonna figure, you know,

"that's his shit," you know, I'm thinking.
I'm gonna make sure I'm out of town,

so all you gotta do is come through...

Guy, I don't need your reasons

or your fuckin' business plan.

Give me the name and the money.

All right. Straight to business.
I like that.

By the time
they were sitting down with me,

they'd mostly made up their minds.

They'd crossed that psychotic Rubicon
and just needed me to confirm

that their darkest desires
were the right desires.

If you come in the side entrance,
near the poolhouse,

there are no cameras.

Lady, this is quite the house.

And I'm not gonna let
that sumbitch take it from me.

You do your part...

And I'll do mine.

Yes, ma'am.

And after he's gone,

I'll be in that big house all alone.

Big house?

Big house...

Of course, I'd charge
a high society person more

just to seem more realistic,
but to me any payment was evidence,

so I'd take whatever
they were able to give.

It's not that much,
but you can have these, too.

Do you really wanna kill
your mom, Monte?

You're young.

You'll be making yourself an orphan.

That's the point.

Did I ask your opinion?

Kill the bitch.

And they ended up giving
this little future school-shooter

adjudicated probation.

Okay, Boss.

My would-be employers
ran the gamut.

Evenly divided between men and women,

young and old, rich and poor.

I like suicide. That seems clean.

Doesn't it?

That's the dream.

But a left-handed person
doesn't shoot themselves

with their right hand.

A person with a phobia
for heights doesn't jump.

A well-tied noose requires studying.

Suicidal people
wanna leave this world quickly.

They don't want to explain themselves.

Neither do I.

Maybe... surprise me?

Sounds lovely.

See, I filed a mental health
warning against him a while back,

describing him as suicidal,
so it'll make sense to everyone.

Then I can sue his doctors
for malpractice.

You are smart lady.

I'm thinking, cut the wrists,
then hold him 'til he bleeds to death?

I am in service business.

I heard that was a fairly painless
way to go, bleeding to death.

Now, I don't have the kind of money

you were talking about
on the phone in cash,

but I have a deal
that'll be worth even more to you.

See.

You can have this boat,
but you can't sell it in Louisiana

'cause there's an insurance claim
against it.

But you take it over to East Texas,
Beaumont or Port Arthur...

I guarantee you'll get
at least 6,000 for it.

Speed boat.

Like Miami Vice.

Yeah! Like Miami Vice.

Believe me, we will get to
all of this eventually,

but let me jump in and pose a question
'cause I think it's going to be a lot of

what we're going to be
exploring this semester,

these concepts of personality,
self, and consciousness.

So, my simple question is...

How many of you think you know yourselves?

Have a strong sense of who you are?

Oh, come on, you don't know yourselves?

Of course you do.

Your entire being is invested
with this notion of self.

It has to be for its own survival,

but what we'll be doing this semester

is challenging this notion.

What if your "self" is a construction?

An illusion, an act,
a role you've been playing

every day since you can remember?

It's always a poignant moment

when your ex is having a kid
with someone else.

We'll see.

Seems like a pretty good class.

I know many people
despise their exes,

but Alicia might have been my best friend.

Or at least the person that knew me best.

If the "self" is a construct,

and it's all just role play,
do you think people can change?

Yeah, within our set-points,
which really isn't that much.

Yeah, I don't know.
I was never really sure about that.

You know, there's actually been
a lot of recent research and data

that says we can.

Enlighten me.

I've been reading a lot recently
about how researchers are finding

that people can change their personalities
well into their adulthood.

And, I mean, I'm working
with numerous clients on it.

All right. Define "change."

Okay. The five traits
that make up personality.

Right? Extroversion,
openness to experience,

emotional stability, agreeableness
and conscientiousness.

They can, they can all be altered
within just a few months.

In what sense?

Well, I mean, you have to embody the trait
rather than just think about it.

You know, it's like the "as if" principle,

where you behave "as if" you are
the person you want to be,

and then pretty soon
you might realize... that is you.

The old you goes... where exactly?

Still there, just,
just dialed down significantly,

and the... the new you is dialed up.

So, you just didn't have a couple decades
to wait for me to change?

Well...

Uh...

if there was one thing
you seemed least interested in,

it was probably change.

I've accepted the idea
a normal relationship isn't in my cards.

No. What is normal?

I mean, look at it this way,
everyone is at least a little fucked up.

You just need to find someone who is
a little fucked up in a way that you like.

Or at least, I don't know, in a way
that complements your own fucked-upness.

And that is a different
kind of survival technique

that would involve another person.

Okay.

Okay.

Speaking of, um, fucked up,

I don't know, I thought you were just
doing tech support stuff for the police.

Now, you're like a full-blown
undercover murder-stopper?

Yeah.

That's me.

I'm sorry, that must be so weird.

You know, I'm never
gonna give up teaching,

but this undercover thing
is like field research.

How so?

Oh, man, you would not believe
the side of humanity I'm hanging out with.

And a lot of it is seeing
how love has just curdled into hate,

and... murder is just the best way out.

Wow.

I have a feeling you never
wanted to murder me when we were married.

- You're saying it like it's a bad thing.
- Well, no, no. It's just an observation.

I mean, to kill someone, I just imagine

you'd have to be capable of
some serious passion.

I'm not incapable of passion.

For certain things, yes, definitely, but...

I think you should see someone.

Like a therapist?

No, no. Like a, like a woman.

Or whatever.

I have the loyal company of Id and Ego.

Okay. You need to see
a woman and a therapist.

I'm tellin' ya, I just don't think
it's the best use of my skills.

Just remember, Jasper,
if it weren't for the police union,

you wouldn't even have a job right now.

Understood.

Uh, but now that I am back,
I should have my job back.

- You know, at least I'm trained for it.
- Um...

Maybe you hadn't heard
since you were on suspension,

but Gary's done a great job.

His conviction rate is high,
and quite frankly,

he's got a better range than you do.

Do you believe that, Gary?

Do you guys think that's true?

Stats don't lie.

You don't like your position, Jasper?

Maybe I can find something
for you over in traffic patrol.

Well, shit. Why don't you just have me
clean the toilets around here, Sarge?

I-I could do that!

Since you're being the asshole,

I'll just come right out and say it.

We're trying to hide your face, okay?

"Who's that beating up those teenagers?"

Not for no reason.

Maybe you've forgotten, Jasper,

unlike the nine million other
people who watched your video,

but we got an angry public out there,
and we don't want them in our business.

So, take my advice.

Do yourself and all of us a favor.

Lay low and keep your goddamn mouth shut.

Can you do that?

Anything else?

Mother was Miss Del Rio.

They all moved to New Orleans
after Katrina.

Parents divorced,
no father in the picture.

Short stints hairdressing,
flight attendant.

Married to husband, Ray Masters,

works in his family's
oil and gas business.

Then...

...nothing.

No criminal record.

A couple of domestic complaints,
no arrests...

Huh.

So, Madison...

...who is your hitman?

Are you enjoying your pie?

All pie is good pie.

Ron.

Madison.

So, tell me, Madison,
what do you do for a living?

Devoted wife.

Obviously.

I assume that's what
we're here to talk about.

Mm-hmm.

And to answer your question, um...

he doesn't let me work.

He doesn't really let me do anything.

Can I have a bite of that pie?

Sure.

He has me on this stupid diet.

Mm.

Oh, this is good.

Oh, he's cute.

You a dog person?

Do I look like a cat person?

Yeah. I don't really get cats.

Kinda creepy, you know?

Really?

Yeah, all those stories...

What stories?

The ones about, like, jealous cats
smothering babies, that kind of stuff.

Whoa.

- Mm-hmm.
- I'm sor... Um...

Do you know someone who's lost a child

to a murderous, jealous cat?

I'm just trying to do
my fact-checking here.

- Not, like, personally.
- Okay.

But I've heard it from,
like, a lot of people.

Well, then there you go.

We got to get to the bottom of this.

I agree.

Detective...

did we pull any paw prints off the victim?

No, sir, but we're herding suspects now.

No small challenge as we know.

Utter cat-astrophe.

What?

Oh, you're good.

You, too.

So, what do you do?

Oh.

I'm sorry. I forgot.

No, it's okay.

This is...

It's a lot.

Yeah.

Um...

I can't believe I'm doing this.

You're in good hands with me.

So, h-how does this usually work?

How do you want it to work?

I don't know.

I'm just really scared.

Why are you scared?

Because he's a bad person.

You don't know what I married into,
and it just keeps getting worse and worse.

I hear you.

Did you always know you wanted to be a...

Not exactly a childhood dream.

Do you ever think about it?

Like, if you did something else?

Or... or if you chose a different path?

I don't overthink things.
I'm not very sentimental.

Yeah. Well, we all have regrets.

Well, in my line of work,
I can't afford to think that way.

I wish I could do that.

But I just feel like I'm in prison,

and I'm gonna die in prison.

But I'm not gonna die in prison.

Because what if me coming here,

and meeting with you is the best decision
that I've ever made

because it's for, it's for me?

Oh.

Sorry.

Shit.

Um, it's-it's him.

I-I have to go, but I brought the...

Can I throw something out there?

Listen, there's nothing in this for me.

Technically I'm un-employing myself here,
but do your future self,

the one that deserves
a happy, fulfilling life,

that can still have that, a big favor.

Take what's in there and get a new life.

Right now.

Don't go home.

And, if you need anything...

or if you change your mind...

you have my number.

Hello?

So, you're a fuckin' life coach now?

Is what I just saw and listened to
what I saw and listened to?

I'm not believing it.

What?

"What?" Never mind our sting operation...

"Let me be your therapist?"

She's not a killer.

She just needs to get it together.

I'm just out here serving
the overall public good.

Public good?

What you just did was
one of the most unprofessional things

I've ever witnessed.

See? See?

This is what happens
when you hire an amateur.

Come on!

I steered clear of entrapment...

No, you let the jury decide that.

At least you got 'em in custody.

Okay. We can agree
to disagree on technique.

It's over.

And did you notice how cute she was?

I wonder if that had
anything to do with it?

Well, we'll never know, will we?

Since this weirdo let her off

before she could start
incriminating herself.

It was, um, let's say, an unusual outcome,

and it'll be written up as such.

Okay, fine...

All right. Talk soon, Gary.

- All right.
- Bye, Gary.

Bye.

Jeez Louise, he's sweatin' Gary hard.

I've seen this before.

Star goes down, back-up comes in

and just kicks ass forever more.

I mean, I know
he dropped the ball on this one, but...

What's the name he used?

- Ron.
- Yo, Ron is fuckin' dope.

He's like a Caucasian Idris.

I would love to grab a beer with that guy,
and I'm not talking about Gary.

I would get black-out drunk with Ron.

I'd let him talk me into ripping lines
on the way to Vegas.

I would rip my I.U.D. out for Ron.

I wouldn't share a straw with Gary.

Gary is hung like a straw, but Ron?

Strictly nightstick.

I mean, it's kind of sounding
like you would fuck Ron, too.

I would take your sloppy seconds...

if it were Ron.

This whole prosecution
has been nothing more

than an entrapping, sting operation!

And this guy...

is the most dishonest, manipulative,

fraudulent kind of person there is!

This Gary Johnson isn't a human-being.

For a human being has humanity.

Empathy!

A human being aids in moments of weakness.

Gary Johnson preys on the weak.

And as far as legal procedures go,

it's like this undercover ghoul

is using an AR-15 to kill a mosquito.

I am so used to this.

While I've put forth a ton
of irrefutable evidence,

all they've got is to somehow
make me the villain.

And I know they're just doing their jobs,

but a personal attack
is still a personal attack

and kind of sucks to have to listen to.

We, the jury, find the defendant
guilty as charged.

But in the "people are
forever mysteries" category,

this would often happen:

I mean, I've forgiven her.
She's forgiven me,

and, hell, I've done much worse.

I think she deserves a second chance...

Which was usually followed by this:

In light of all the evidence
and testimony we've heard,

we find the defendant not guilty.

Congratulations, Tammy!

Maybe their love wasn't perfect,

but it was something.

I hear ya.

I swear, our country's legal system...

Pull!

...is fuckin' fucked.

- Here you go.
- Ah, no.

You need the practice
a lot more than I do!

All right, then.

You can't blame someone
for taking the law

- in their own hands.
- Hmm.

You know, there's a thing
I really believe in.

- What's that?
- That is personal justice

for when our pussified
justice system fails.

- When we do this, and we do it right...
- Right.

...personal justice, that's gonna be yours.

You didn't take all that
unfairness laying down.

Hell, no I didn't.

Pull!

Now, that's the America
I miss right there.

- Amen, amen.
- Uh-huh.

Look...

...there are three things
you need to kill a man.

Yes.

- The gun.
- Right.

- The bullets.
- Mm-hmm.

And the balls.

And, boy, I am stockpiled
on three of those things.

Son of a bitch, Tanner.

Pull!

That's what I'm talkin' about right there.

I would, of course,
never cross this line. I'm a professional.

But technically, she didn't text me.

She texted Ron.

But I don't think I'm a dog person.
In fact, I may be allergic to them.

Physically and emotionally.

I find them to be too needy,

just pandering to whoever holds the meat.

But...

at the end of the day,
we're all spineless...

we beg for more, embarrass ourselves
for the scraps of others...

Dogs just don't apologize for it.

Buddy.

You made it!

Wow, I... I thought I loved puppies.

Well, I gargle barbecue sauce
like Listerine before these things.

Keeps the bitches bitchin'.

I'm glad you came.

I'm glad you invited me.

So, how are you?

I'm fine. I'm fine.

The real question is, how are you?

Oh, I'm, I'm great.

Yeah. I'm... I'm great.

I-I got out of there almost immediately.

I have my own place now in St. Roch.

I mean, it's a mess, but it's mine.
So, I love it.

Um, I'm getting a divorce.

- Wow.
- Yeah.

Sometimes you just gotta make a move.

I'm so happy for you.

You know, when I saw your text, I thought,

is she picking a dog charity
as the place to re-engage me?

No! Oh, God, no. No.

That crazy moment has passed.

New me, new life, he's...

And look at you now.

- You like the hair?
- Oh, I love the hair.

He hated it.

Hated dogs, hated miniskirts.
So, you know what?

I'm just making up for lost time.

Well, I'm... just so happy
this is how it's all going for you.

Thank you.

No, but really thank you.

Like, I don't want to be weird
or anything,

but I kinda couldn't
have done it without you.

There! I said it.

I don't get a lot of
thank yous in my line of work.

Yeah, I guess not.

Madison.

We have a situation in the husky cage.

Code brown.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Oh, um, Ron, Jill.

Jill, Ron.

Nice to meet you. You need any help?

No, we're good. You okay?

I'm good.

I got things to do!

Okay.

Wow.

Oh, it's long, it's long!

Go, go, go!

There it is!

Oh!

Oh, no, no!

No.

No. No, I don't buy it.

What?

You're not a hitman.

You can't be. You cuddled puppies.

You played with kids.

You've opened every door for me tonight.

And yet, you kill people for money?

Chivalry may be dead,
but I didn't kill it.

And I tried looking you up and nothing.
It's like you don't even exist.

I guess I'm just your fantasy.

Okay.

We'll see about that.

How many?

Wait, I don't wanna... No, I do wanna know.

What? Does a gentleman not kill and tell?

Okay. For the record, I love people.

And yet, you kill them.

Not just randomly.

It's always with a purpose.

- To protect.
- Hmm.

And make no mistake,

there are some people who need killing.

Right?

Right.

So, what's the biggest
difference between...

between the real you and your occupation?

Mm.

I'd say the real me... is a people person.

I like to have a good time.

But...

To be most effective in this job,
I have to be a bit of a lone wolf.

I have to never draw
any attention to myself.

I don't want anyone to remember my face.
I don't want to over or under tip.

I don't want to be pulled into
memorable conversations.

That's why I drive a Honda Civic.

I want it to seem like I don't exist.

I don't know.
That's the professional side of me.

Tell me a little more about
the unprofessional side.

I'd say...

being here with you right now is...
pretty damn unprofessional, but, hey.

Good. I don't want you too professional.

How do you want me?

W-What?

Do I scare you?

No.

Do I scare you?

Should I be scared?

That depends on what your intentions are.

Okay.

You want to know all about me.
But what about you?

You know all you need to know.

Is that right?

I was once told I think too much
to be a good lover.

She said exceptional sex
requires a lack of thought,

a certain amount of
animal abandon...

I liked Ron.

He wasn't a thinker. He was a doer.

So, I don't know
if I was just better as Ron,

or if it was that electric charge
going through both of us...

I mean, after all,
in her mind, she was having sex

with someone who had murdered
a bunch of people,

and I was having sex with someone

who was clearly capable of
having a lover killed.

I'm not proud to say this,
but it upped my game.

You know, I haven't been
with anyone else in so long...

Can I tell you something?

What?

This is fun.

I agree.

I like this.

Us.

Yeah.

Look, on a full-disclosure,
cautionary note,

I've had a few girlfriends,
that early marriage,

but because of my line of work,
I generally have trouble

maintaining what most would consider
a normal relationship.

Fuck normal.

Amen.

Do you wanna see me again?

Yeah.

But...

it's a little complicated. Isn't it?

It doesn't have to be.

This is a bad idea.

I suppose it is.

For instance, we can never go to my place.

Good. I don't want to.

I can never give you any info
about my whereabouts, at any time.

If I'm tracked or traced,
you'd be pulled right in the middle of it.

I will see you when I see you.

And we can only get so personal.

And the less you know about me,
the less I know about you...

Okay, what's your next line?

"Don't fall in love with me?"

I know what this is.

I don't want to know where you live,

or what you're doing at any given moment.

We're just going to meet here
whenever we want,

and nothing outside of here matters.

Well, okay then.

Well, okay.

So we agree to the terms?

Where do I sign?

Anywhere else I need to sign?

Initial here.

Anywhere else I need to initial?

We gotta make sure
this document is air tight.

The Freudian concepts
of the Id and the Superego are,

in Jung's point of view,
in constant struggle with each other.

The Superego

is our conscience.

It rewards us for behaving properly,

adhering to societal norms,
moralistic standards.

So, the Id...

as humans, we have desires,

instincts that are primitive.

Urges that are solely based
in the pursuit of pleasure,

ignoring the consequences.

Now, the Ego

is the middle-man.

The bridge between instinct and logic,

the law and the lawless.

Forever attempting to maximize pleasure

while minimizing the cost.

Welcome to Madison Airlines.

Where we flying?

Somewhere hot and tropical.

Please follow me to the upper deck.

First class all the way.

Shh.

Sir, please unbuckle your seatbelt.

It's for your own safety.

We're expecting heavy turbulence...

So prepare to brace for impact.

I know we agreed not to
talk about stuff like this,

and you don't have to answer
if you don't want to,

but how do you do it and not get caught?

Well, you gotta be smart, thorough,

a few steps ahead of what you know
they're going to be looking for.

You know, the dirty secret is,
most murders go unsolved,

especially around here.

So, my M.O., engage
in a more controlled area,

and then move the body
somewhere that says, "chaos."

Isn't that messy?

Well, it can be if you're not smart.

Quick, you're going to shoot me. Where?

No! Lower.

Lower.

Lo... okay.

The heart.

I mean, certain areas
like the head or the neck,

I mean, the blood
has nowhere to go but out.

Talk about a bloody mess.

And people, I mean, we're just
these big skin-bags of blood,

and you have this big
beautiful thoracic cavity

to hold it all in.

Until you can move the body,

set the scene,

tell the story you want them to find.

You know, I was always too shy
to go out for the high school play,

but I had somehow found my stage,

and each arrest was like
a standing ovation.

We're about to go
into the deep end of the pool here.

This is serious.

If I take this envelope and leave,

this time tomorrow, her head
is in a Winn-Dixie bag.

The rest of her is pig slop in Opelousas.

Now be absolutely clear with me.

Is that what you want?

Alright. I got this woman.
She's into this iPhone swiping.

This boyfriend findin', right?

And she's slingin' the kitty
across the causeway

with this manager from the Piccadilly,
and then wanna take everything, too.

Now, I don't know how things work
where you from, but from around here,

you don't take a man TV,
his dog, and his boat.

There's no way, T.

Kill the slut.

With pleasure.

Your Honor,

a psychopathic predator
will always be a threat to society.

On the other hand, someone
who once commits a crime of passion,

or sudden passion, as it is known legally,

is no more likely to commit that crime
than any other member of society.

In this case, I would characterize

just the intent to entertain
solicitation of murder,

although no one was ultimately harmed,
as kind of a "sudden passion"

as opposed to attempted
pre-meditated murder.

Objection!

Overruled.

A question would be welcome.

Mr. Johnson, you testified previously

that you felt this was
a pre-meditated act.

By that, did you mean
you conjuring this whole thing

and coercing them into a murder scheme
was premeditated?

There was nothing sudden
or impulsive about our meeting.

The intent was clear.
The follow-through was detailed.

Well, if you were not
attempting coercion, why the research?

Why the costumes? Why the disguises?

Sure, my client has found himself
in compromising circumstances,

but my question to you, Mr. Johnson,
what are your circumstances?

Objection, your honor!

Sustained.

What are you hiding with these costumes?

Who are you trying to fool?

What would Ron do?

Objection, the defense
is badgering the witness.

My job is not to analyze
the events around my meeting.

My job is to meet the client
at those circumstances.

Complete the picture
they've already drawn for themselves.

I'm not in the business of second chances.

I got something we can play with.

I like the sound of that.

What do you got back there?

Pick a hand.

Left.

- You lose.
- Whoa.

Shit.

What is that for?

Well, what do you think?
I'm a woman living by myself.

I gotta protect myself.

Plus, all that talk about murder
freaked me out.

Okay.

Trust me, that is not gonna be
making you any safer.

You have a gun.

It's a little different.
I'm a professional.

Mm.

Well, are you going to show me
how to use it or what?

- Now?
- Mm-hmm.

Didn't we have a contract?

Nothing outside of here matters?

We have to leave
our love nest at some point.

Don't we?

Do we?

Okay. I suck.

Self-healing targets.

Why is this so hard?

Ah, it just takes practice.

Why don't you show me, hot shot?

Well, this distance

is for weekenders, tourists...

That's my usual distance.

Okay, wait. Just hear me out.

So, if the moon controls the tides, right?

- Yeah.
- And we're mostly water,

how could a full moon not affect you?

Think about it.

Well, technically, that makes no sense.

- No, it makes sense.
- No.

A phase of the moon
has nothing to do with gravity.

It has to do with shadows.

A phase is just
how much of the sun's light

we're blocking on the way to the moon.

You know, the gravitational relationship
between the moon and Earth,

these two planetary bodies, is fixed

so the moon may look different
throughout the month,

but nothing is actually
changing on Earth, you know?

Okay, I didn't know I was out
with Neil fuckin' DeGrasse Tyson.

Gotta keep you guessin'.

- Let's go dance, white boy.
- Yeah.

Let's go, get the fuck out of here.

Ray. Come on, man.

Madison?

Fuck...

- I've been calling you.
- Ray, please.

Guess your hands have been
too busy to pick up, huh?

Who the fuck is this?

I'm her boyfriend.

Oh, really? Well, I'm her husband.

- Ray, can we just please keep it...
- What? Keep it what, Maddy?

No, you tell me. You tell me, Maddy.

- You want me to keep it cordial?
- Nice to meet you.

Yeah, you, too, boyfriend!

Madison, you're pathetic!

- Hey, you know what? No.
- Ray. Ray!

No, I'm not done, okay?
Just get the fuck off me.

I'm just fuckin' around, guys.

Come on!

Is it a crime now to have a little fun
with your new friend here?

Ray, can you just leave us alone?

Goddamn it, Madison.
Don't walk away from me.

- Ray.
- Don't you fucking walk away from me,

you ungrateful bitch! Come here!

- Shit!
- Apologize, motherfucker.

Yeah. He said apologize, motherfucker.

He's a professional. He'll do it.

Show him.

Fuck.

Come on.

Professional what?

Yeah. Professional asshole.

Really moving up in the world,
aren't you, Madison, huh?

- See you again, professional.
- Come on, Ray, get outta here.

You know what? Fuck y'all.
You fuckin' deserve each other.

- Ray, c'mon, dude! Get the fuck out of...
- Shut the fuck up!

Not fucking cool man!

I can't get over how amazing that was!

You... you were incredible.

That entitled fuck doesn't
back down for anybody.

Did you see his face?

- Yeah...
- He just walked.

That was wild.

All right, cool guy.

Nobody, nobody has ever
stood up for me like that.

Well.

Here.

Best date ever.

Oh.

- Wow.
- Mm-hmm. Mm.

That's good.

Oh, that is so good.

So, it seems like you and Ray
have different takes on your divorce.

I'm clear.

I mean, I can't help it
if he's being all crazy.

I mean, you saw how crazy he is.

Yeah.

You are divorced, though, right?

Do you see a ring on my finger?

Do you see a ring on my finger?

No.

Exactly.

I mean, it's just like,
what are the chances

that the same club we're at
is the same club he's at?

Okay, what's up with all these questions?

Fine!

I fucked up.

I broke our contract.

But I will happily, happily sign
a new one when we get home...

All right. Well, you seem upset.

I'm not upset
with me pulling a gun on some dickhead.

It's not a big deal.

I'm just saying,
you don't see me bringing you

to where all my friends and
former lovers are hanging out.

We just gotta keep this clean.

It was a coincidence!

Whoa. What the fuck?

Looky who's here.

I thought that was you.

What's up?

Oh, I'm just grabbing some takeout.

Saw you across the way. I mean, what, huh?

What are the odds of this? This is crazy.

Are you gonna introduce me to your friend?

- Jasper.
- Madison.

Madison.

Madison?

Madison...

Have we met before?
You just look so familiar.

No.

No, I don't think so.

Ugh. Whatever. Maybe it'll come to me...

Maybe it will.

Okay. Well, I'll let you guys
get back to your dessert.

Just wanted to say hi.

Have a good night.

Enjoy the weekend.

Good to see ya.

All right.

- Bye!
- Bye.

Oh.

Now, that was a coincidence.

Who's he?

Just some guy I used to work with.

So, ex-husband, ex-coworker...

are we even?

No.

Yes.

I'll sign the contract again.

What are we doing?
I got no notice. I got no research.

Feel like I'm going in naked.

Well, this is when you actually
have to be good at your job.

Halloween's over.
No more costumes, man.

All right. We did not get much on him.

We didn't even have time
to get a Title III warrant,

so it's audio only.

His name is Mike.

He's already in there waiting,
and he seems a little volatile.

Woo-hoo! This is gettin' scary.

Wait, do we even know
what this guy looks like?

No, but he said
he'd be the guy sitting alone

reading "Catcher in the Rye."

Which, historically speaking,
is never a good sign.

It's gonna be fine, Gary.

You could do this in your sleep.

Just another pussy
too scared to do it himself.

You got this, G.

Okay.

Enjoy your breakfast.

Mike?

Yeah. Judd?

Eyes forward!
It's for your own protection.

So, tell me, Mike, how can I help you?

- So you're...?
- I am.

And you...?

I do.

So, tell me what you're thinking.

Unless you came here for the pancakes.

My wife.

What'd you have in mind?

What do you think? Slut's killing me.

I can't live just knowing she's out there...

with someone else.

So, now I'm here... with you.

So why do you need me?

Why aren't you taking care
of this shit yourself?

Oh, believe me, I want to,

but we're going through
a divorce right now.

And I'd be the number one suspect.

So, I need the perfect front,
you know, the perfect alibi.

So, you're not technically divorced yet?

What's it to you?

Oh, I forgot to mention, too. It's...

Well, it might be a twofer.

She's got this new boyfriend.

He's a real douche.

And?

And, if he's there,
you can take him out, too.

I've got no problem with that.

It's gonna cost you more.

You good with it?

Yeah, fuck em' both.

Done.

You bring the money?

Yeah, it's right here.
Should be enough for both of them.

I have a special request, though.

I'm in the service business.

When you do it, I want her to know why.

Right before you do it,
look her in the eye and say,

"This is from your loving husband."

I want that to be the last thing
she fuckin' hears.

You know what?

Maybe I'll throw in
the boyfriend for free.

What the fuck?

What? It's very simple.

You give me the money.
I'll take care of it.

I'll take care of this shit myself.

What the hell was that about?

I don't know. He just freaked out.

Happens...

Does it?

...right now. But leave a message.

All right. Madison,
if you get this, stay out of the house.

All right? I'm hearing some stuff
about Ray. Just call...

What the fuck was that?

- What?
- What?

What do you mean what?
The guy just bolts out?

I don't know. He panicked.

Well, you can't win 'em all.

No, you sure can't with that attitude.
If they're uneasy, you put 'em at ease.

From my perspective,
you're getting a little sloppy.

Maybe so.

Look, I wanted to talk with you
about the other night...

Oh? What about it?

Oh, her?

Hey, I get it, man.
It all makes sense to me now.

It's cool.

I've fucked my share of suspects.

It's no big deal. It's good for ya.

I just ran into her. All right?

She was just thanking me
for steering her in the right direction.

Uh huh, I bet she was.

I just don't want things
to get misconstrued.

Gary...

you can trust me.

Wait, wait...

Just tell me this one more time.
He's trying to put out a hit on me?

Yes! He's trying to hire me to kill you!

What do you not get
about that? We gotta go.

- And he saw you in person?
- Yeah.

- And he knows what you do?
- Yeah.

So, are you gonna kill me?

What are you talking about?

Are you gonna kill me?

No.

Then I have nothing to worry about.

I think he might do it himself.

No, he won't.

He won't. He won't.

Okay. So, I ask the modern-day jury,
what is your verdict?

We've decided on life without parole.

How very modern of you.

How did you arrive at this conclusion?

Well, even though we felt this person
is guilty of a heinous act,

we don't think a state-sanctioned killing
accomplishes anything,

and only causes more pain and suffering.

Okay.

It's a nice example of a legal system

set up to respond
to the will of its citizens.

Now, let's jump back in time
to our Paleolithic friends,

25,000 years ago,
where things are very different.

You have no jury.

You have no official legal system.

You're just a nomadic community.

So, what are you gonna do
about your problem,

this existential threat
in the form of your unhinged leader

who's invading other tribes?

He's killing. He's raping. He's pillaging.

Seems like he's gonna get you all killed.

What are your options?

We're kinda mixed.

Some of us think we should exile him...

We don't have the means to exile him.
We gonna put him on a boat?

The majority of us...

want to eliminate him.

Whatever we have to do
for our own survival.

Whoo. Don't mess with Jerren.

So, how do you solve this problem?

Execution.

That's ruthless,

but historically,
potentially the right choice.

There's been a lot of scholarship
on this very subject recently.

And the new thinking is
that these kind of targeted killings

actually play a larger part in our
social evolution than previously thought.

This impulse to weed out
these destabilizing forces

is likely a dark thread
in our historical DNA.

These killings were thought
to have served a twofold purpose.

They not only protected
social coherence and norms,

but also eliminated
a certain kind of abusive

and uncooperative person
from the gene pool.

Excuse me. When did our professor get hot?

I know.

And you'll get those comp stats
over to Headquarters this afternoon?

Mm-hmm.

They know about the body?

No. I haven't had a chance
to tell them yet.

What body?

You remember the lady came in,

trying to have her husband
killed, that we let go?

No, that he let go.

Madison Figueroa Masters.

Ah, the one you were Ron.

Yeah, her husband was just found dead.

I'm sorry. What happened? Where?

The body was found
in Cabbage Alley off Chef Menteur.

Possible drug deal gone bad.

Single bullet to the aorta. A .38.

Gary?

Yeah. When I was researching our guy,

seemed like he had
a lot of drug problems, so...

Any suspects?

Not really. Sounds like
she and the husband got into it

outside of a bar called Virgo's,

and then the guy she was with
pulled a gun on him.

Did we ID that guy?

Not yet.

Maybe it's a new boyfriend or something?

Should we go
try to find this guy, talk to him?

I'm liking that.

Let us know what you find out.

I think Johnson and I
should tag-team this.

Is that all right if I bring him?

Sure.

Are you cool with it, Gary?

Yeah.

What are you doing?

Looking for the boyfriend.

Oh, shit! I found him!

Fuck! I'm good.

Come on! What are we doing here?

Hey. Look, I'm not going to tell anybody.

Tell 'em what?

So, I ran into her again.
Doesn't mean I'm the boyfriend.

Doesn't mean I have
anything to do with anything.

Whoa, whoa.

Whoa. So defensive.

Look, nobody's accusing you of anything.

I was just wondering if you knew this guy?

If he looked familiar?

Yeah, that was the guy
that ran out of the restaurant.

What was his name? Mike?

Ray. He's Madison's husband.

Right?

Right.

You see, I went back and listened
to that conversation that you guys had,

and it just took on a whole different
layer of meaning for me.

You really knew what button to push
with that whole boyfriend line, huh?

Huh?

What are you getting at?

Nothing. It's just...

Hey, look, we're friends, right, Gary?

Let you in on something.

Over the years,
I've sort of learned to follow my nose

on these hunches that I have, and usually
something turns up pretty interesting.

Valuable.

Let me know what you find.

Maybe.

All right. Well...

I don't know. Nothing here.

You scared me.

Hi.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Like what?

You're looking at me
like something's wrong.

Is something wrong?

Anything out of the ordinary?

Okay, what are you doing?

Look, Ron, it's too early for this shit.

Did you hear about Ray?

That he's dead?

Yeah.

How do you know about that?

I just know.

Were you ever going to tell me?
You just didn't think it would come up?

Yeah, but who told you?

This is sort of my area.

You know, I listen to police scanners.

I tend to know
who's being killed in this town.

I'm wondering if you're okay
'cause you seem weirdly okay.

I was obviously going to tell you.

It's just that I'm still
just processing it all.

I don't really know what to do with it.

You know, it's a weird position to be in.

Am I supposed to be playing
the role of a grieving widow?

Well, I don't know how to pretend.

Was he a good guy? No.

Did I love him?
I mean, I loved him.

Just... people grieve in different ways.

I just have to know.
Did you have anything to do with this?

Why the fuck would I have
anything to do with this?

What motive? You think...

I'm the one who talked you out of
killing him in the first place, remember?

What, you think
I'm just out there on my own

killing people for no money?

Okay.

I just had to ask.

I'm sorry.

It's okay. I'm...

I understand.

Come here.

I'm really happy you're here.

Me, too.

So, what happened?

Police call you to let you know?

Yeah.

And what are they saying?
Any suspects? Arrests?

They think there was a drug deal going on.
They just found him shot.

I'm so scared.

I know.

It's so weird,

so out of the blue.

But you don't have to be scared.
Why would you be scared?

Because I killed him.

You killed him?

Yeah.

Why would you do that?

You told me yourself.
He was gonna come and kill me!

So, he was attacking you.
It was like self-defense.

- Technically...
- Technically, what? What was he doing?

He was either passed out or asleep.

And you killed him?

Yeah.

I made a story, and they're believing it.

Oh, my God...

Oh, my God!

Why are you getting
so worked up about this?

- You do this shit all the time.
- I don't do this all the time.

I've never done this.
I've never killed anyone.

What are you talking about?

I'm a fake hitman.

That's why I didn't put you away.
I didn't have you arrested.

Because I was working undercover.

You're a cop?

No. I...

I teach at a college.
This hitman thing's just a part-time gig

that's gotten out of hand.

So, you've been lying to me
this whole time?

I was stuck.

I didn't want to lose you,
and you met Ron first.

And you liked Ron...

I liked Ron.
So, I didn't want to show you Gary.

Who the fuck is Gary?

I'm Gary.

I don't even know your name?

My real name is Gary Johnson.

- Gary?
- I know!

- Oh.
- Sorry.

- They've called three times.
- Oh.

Something must be going on.
A situation probably...

Hey, how's it going, Claude?

Gary, where are you?
We need you back at the station now.

- Now?
- Yes, now.

We got a new development
on this Madison Masters.

Okay. I'll be right there.

I'm sorry.

I gotta handle something really quickly,
and then I'm gonna be right back...

Don't.

Just leave, whatever your name is.

I might have walked in as Ron,
but I left as Gary.

Johnson's here! Phil, briefing room.

Wait 'til you hear this.

Hey! Lookin' good, Gary.

Glad you could make it.

This is looking more and more
like we messed this up.

Madison Figueroa
is now the number one suspect.

- Really?
- Really.

Have a seat.

Tell him what we just found out.

About six months ago,

Ray Masters increased
his life insurance policy

by one million dollars.

A policy in which, of course,
the wife was named the sole beneficiary.

Hm.

Now, the policy pre-dates
the initial solicitation attempt,

but Homicide now believes there might be
some connective tissue here.

Maybe after your meeting,
she coerced someone else to do it,

or she did it herself.

That's what happens
when you let someone off the hook.

Not helpful.

And that was a long time ago.

Gary, did you ever talk to her again
after that time at the Please U?

Yeah. Actually, I did.

You did? When?

Yeah, I ran into her at Ted's Frostop.

She just thanked me for helping her out,
giving her good advice.

Actually, that was the night
I ran into you.

You talked to her.

You talked to her, too?

I didn't realize that was her.

Yeah, that was Madison.

Huh.

Huh.

So, do you think she could be
involved in his murder?

I mean, there's always a chance,
but I would be very surprised.

She just seemed so happy.
She left her husband.

She got her own place.

And just seemed like
she was doing really well.

So, what are we doin' next here, guys?

Well, we could pull her in
for questioning at any time.

She'll probably
just get a lawyer, clam up...

and if she's really behind this,

she's probably got her lies
and alibis in order. You know.

I'm thinking we got a one-time opportunity
to get the unvarnished story from her.

This guy.

- Me?
- Yeah.

Question, when you ran into her,

were you Gary, or were you the hitman?

Which one were you
going under on that one?

Ron.

Okay, so you're still
Ron, the hitman, to her?

Who else would I be?

This is great.
I mean, look, she forever knows

that he knows
that she wanted to kill the guy,

and she must like him or trust him enough

to be sharing a sundae at Ted's Frostop.

I mean, let's face it, huh?
They got the goods on each other.

I mean, she would never
in a million years suspect

he's recording their conversation.

I think we got an opportunity here.

So, we manufacture a random encounter
where he gets her talking.

Not random.

Surprise encounter.

I say we put a wire on Gary,

and we go in now.

Look, I'm thinking you can just
play this as a concerned check-in.

You read about the husband's death,

and you're up front
about why you want to talk with her.

I'm liking this.

There's no tellin' what she'll say,
but once you get her talking,

you'll be able to tell
if she's lying to you.

Exactly.

You good with that, Gary?

I think it's a good plan.

Very good.

So, you send me the address.

I'll meet you over there.

- Let's nail her.
- No, I'll ride with you.

I'll get you prepped.

See you guys in the van.

You good?

Yeah.

Okay.

You're making me nervous.

Really? Does he need that?

Yeah. I wanna be in his ear on this one.

Go get her, Ron!

Hey.

I got you.

You guys there?

Can you guys hear me?

Loud and clear.

Your ears working?

- Yep.
- Great.

Remember, audio only,
gotta get a good recording.

Got it.

We gotta talk.

There's a bunch of shit coming down

that we gotta figure out quick,
or we are both fucked.

Wait, what?

Look, people know
I handle shit around here,

so because of that meeting
we had that one time,

I'm catching heat
for the death of your husband.

- They're thinking one of us did it.
- Well, it wasn't me!

Look, I know you did it.
It's fuckin' obvious...

- ...and I don't blame you.
- I didn't kill him!

Wait, who's accusing me of this?

This is bullshit! And you,
out of all people, should know

that I wasn't capable of this!

Okay, then who did?
What the hell happened?

I just know what they've told me...

Which is what?

He got shot buying drugs.

Guy was an addict.

Okay, so you say you didn't kill him.

When was the last time you saw him?

Not that long ago, at Virgo's.

The club?

Yes, the club.
I was walking out of Virgo's with this guy

that I met on the dance floor,
and boom, I run into Ray.

Ray loses his shit
when he sees me with this other guy,

starts running his mouth,
gets all threatening,

and fucking grabs me.

And then this other guy,
trying to protect me,

he pulls out a gun out of nowhere
and sticks it in Ray's face.

Find out more about the guy with the gun.

Ray freaks out.

He leaves. I run away,
and that was the last time I saw him.

So, who's this guy?

The one who pulled the gun.
What's his name?

I don't know.

- You don't know his name?
- I don't know his name.

We were having fun on the dance floor,

and I asked him
if he wanted to go somewhere else.

He said yes.

We walk out,
all that stuff with Ray happened.

So, you know what, if he said his name,
I didn't hear it.

So, you don't know his name.

You're just leaving the club
with some random stranger you just met?

Hey, fuck off!

I'm a grown woman.
I'm single, and he wasn't random.

He was a damn good dancer.

Well, I'm happy for you.

'Cause your mystery man, he's a suspect.

I'm hearing they're looking for him.

Nail her on the insurance policy.

Shit, well, so am I.

Good men are rare these days.
He stood up for me. He protected me.

So, you know what?
If they find him, you let me know.

You know, that first time
we met at the Please U,

your motive didn't seem financial,

like a lot of these other
pieces of shit I work for.

Yeah, because it wasn't.

Then what is this
million-dollar insurance policy

everybody seems to know about?

Don't act like
a million dollars is nothing.

Don't you fucking lie to me.
You know what I'm capable of.

Ray's family has money.
They do shit like this.

They take out insurance.

Look, I don't even know
if I get any of that money.

For all I know, he changed
the beneficiary when we broke up.

Listen, I have no mind
for financial stuff.

Ray would talk about money

and investments and shit like that,
and it would just go over my head.

Oh, you're giving me all the answers,

but you are not giving me
the right answers.

I'm giving you the truth!

I still know you did it.

Fuck you! I didn't do it.

You know what? How dare you
come into my own house and accuse me.

You know what?
Get the fuck outta my house!

Hey, I'm on your side.
That is why I'm here.

I'm trying to help you get away with this.

Not because I'm some
great guy or anything,

but as soon as the heat's off you,
it's off of me, too.

We can dig our way
out of this mess together.

There is no together!

I can push this whole thing
off on someone else,

but before I do that,
you have to tell me the truth

- so I can get this right.
- You know what? I'm done.

I'm done answering questions
from a fucking hitman.

You're not a cop!
Let them find out who really did it.

I've already told you
everything that I know!

I had nothing to do with this!

Ray was a druggie loser asshole.

Now get the fuck out of my house!

Hey! Last time.

I am offering you a way out.

After I walk out of this door,
you're on your own. I could've helped.

Good. I don't need it.

And as far as we know,
they could be watching us right now,

so we should probably
never see each other again.

Great.

You know, if you see me
publicly, don't say, "Hi."

Nothing personal.

We just gotta keep this clean.

Fine by me.

Fuck.

What'd you think?

What did you think?

You gave her
plenty of rope to hang herself.

Mm-hm. She's either the best liar that
we've ever encountered, or she's innocent.

Yeah.

- Damn it! I thought it was her.
- Yeah, me, too.

Yeah, she seemed pretty honest in there.

What about you, Jasper?

Yeah. I tend to agree.
I don't think she did it.

Great work in there, Gary. Really.

So this mystery guy,
the one who pulled the gun,

- should we try to hunt that guy down?
- No.

No, he just seems like some guy who
pulled a gun on an asshole in an alleyway.

Nothing much happened.

Yeah, we're done here.

Oh, my God!

Yeah! There he is.

The man himself.

I figured you'd be coming by here, man.

Come on, celebration beer?
I'm gonna get you a beer.

- You got it the first time. I got it.
- I'll get it.

She's awesome.

What's going on, Jasper?

I was literally just telling Madison here
what phenomenal actors you guys are.

So, I had to get backstage,

poke my head inside the green room.

I mean, your performance was flawless,

but you...

you, my friend,

knocked my fucking socks off.

Maybe I never gave you
enough credit, Gary.

Or... Ron. Sorry.

Gary... Ron...

I get them mixed up sometimes. Do you?

Sometimes.

- Yeah.
- What the fuck is going on?

Well, I was literally just
telling the lovely Madison

that I was gonna be fine
with whatever way it went this afternoon.

That if it just blew up in your face,

well, at least I'd get my job back.

But, if you got away with it,

which, hey, congratulations,
it seems like you did,

I would just have to settle
for a fuck-ton of money.

Oh, this is where you would go,
"What money, Jasper?"

Or, "Money from where?"

And then I would say,

"the dead husband's insurance policy."

Okay. Whoa, whoa, whoa.

This will be our little
understanding, okay?

The one that keeps me silent

and you guys out of prison.

- You got nothing, Jasper.
- Well, I...

Nah. It's 'cause there isn't
anything. That we're dating?

- You think anybody gives a shit?
- Oh, shit! I didn't know that.

Hey! You've already
played your hand here.

- Congratulations.
- Fuck you! Get lost!

Hey! Stop.

Stay.

Babe, sit down.
We're gonna hear him out.

Yeah, babe, you're being a dick.

I'm just trying to help you guys out.

- Help us out?
- Oh, Jesus Christ, Gary!

Enough. Okay? Enough!

Okay. Cut the bullshit.

Here, I'll go first, all right?

I've been following both of you.

And here, I'll be even more honest.

I wanted my job back.

Nothing against you personally,
okay, but holy shit!

I have enough evidence
to put you away for life.

And you...

an accomplice to murder?

Whoa, doggy.

You're gonna be there for a while.

And the only reason
that I'm 100 percent sure

that you did it, is because
I am 100 percent sure

that your Mr. Tough Guy here...

couldn't fucking kill a thing.

The house is hot.

And ironically,

life insurance might have
actually saved you guys here.

I mean, that money
got me thinking, that this...

...dark...

fucking adventure, okay,
that we've all been on,

can actually have a happy ending.

Okay. So, the day
that you hand over the cash...

is the...

Fuck!

Fuck!

I'm fucked.

What just happened?

I put drugs in his beer.
I hope I didn't overdo it.

But if he wakes up, I'm going to jail...

I drugged a cop.

I am so fucked.

What are you doing?

What's that for?

Commitment.

Can't get away with killing a cop.

Not usually, but for Jasper these days,

I'm thinking we can.

I mean, the police
are probably thinking about him

the way we are right now,

they'd just be better off
if he wasn't around anymore.

Oh, God.

So, what's our story?

He gets found in his car
in a remote area.

Drugs in his system, bag over his head,

no contusions or sign of struggle,

clearly a suicide.

I mean, his wife left him years ago, so...

no one to question the story.

He's racist, misogynistic, abusive.

A dirty, dirty cop.

Fuck him.

Are we really doing this?

We don't have a choice.

Look, I know you're taking
a big leap with me,

and there are some factual loose threads
we'll be dealing with, but...

I think I'm in love with you.

Well, it's always a leap.

And for the record,
I think I'm in love with you, too.

For better or worse?

We can agree
this is kind of the worst, right?

Right.

So, we're in this 'til the end?

'Til death do us part?

Yes, because I don't believe in divorce.

I'm kidding.

So, do we agree on the terms?

I do.

Where do I sign?

- Anywhere else I need to sign?
- Initial here.

We gotta make sure
this document is airtight.

I think there's a little place
down here I need to initial.

I know I've thrown
a lot at you this semester,

but that's the point, isn't it?

To be inundated, overwhelmed
by perspectives and possibilities,

because that is what life is offering you
if you choose to look at it that way.

And I didn't always.

I used to believe that reality
was objective, immutable.

And we're all just sort of stuck
in a Plato-Descartes-Kant sort of way.

But over the years, I've come to believe

that the truth is created
through the integration

of different points of view,
and there are no absolutes,

whether moral or epistemological.

Now, I find this to be a much more
empowering way to go through life,

this notion that
if the universe is not fixed,

then neither are you,

and you really can become a different
and hopefully, better person.

Now, the one thing I know for certain,
is your reality will change over time

in ways you cannot even imagine,

and I urge you to be open
for this transformation.

So, as we close out this semester,

if I have one piece of advice
for you moving forward

in this complicated world, it is this:

seize the identity you want for yourself.

And whoever you wanna be after this class,

be them with passion and abandon.

Whoo!

Best of luck to you all
on your final exam.

You may begin.

All right. You see all those
white birds out there?

Notice the long orange bill, right?
That's the white ibis.

Look at those eyes. They're crazy.

All right, so,
I know we have the croissants,

and I know we have the cupcakes.
Are you bringing the apple pie?

Yeah, I'm bringing
Gary's famous apple pie.

That's wonderful. Okay. I have that.

Oh. And don't worry
about the costumes, I got it.

Thank God. You're the best,
Madison. Thank you.

We were hoping someone
would step in and help.

You know, Gabby just bailed for Aspen.

I could've literally
strangled her to death.

Yeah. I know.

Anyway, I'll see you next meeting.

As love can do, somewhere
along the way, it changed me.

I eventually found the proper
cocktail of Gary and Ron.

After all, life is short.

You gotta live on your own terms.

Mommy, where did you meet Daddy?

Well, Daddy was
the nicest guy I'd ever met.

Even though he was being all tough,

I could tell it was an act.

And your mother, well, what can I say?

It was love at first sight.

She ended up making a new man out of me.

But to answer your question,
we met at a magical little place

called the Please U Cafe.

You enjoying your pie?

All pie is good pie.

It sure is.

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