All language subtitles for Homicide.Life.on.the.Street.S06E11.Shaggy.Dog.City.Goat.1080p.PCOK.WEB-DL.DD2.0.x264-NTb_track4_[eng]

- [applause]
- [Frost] And now it is
my pleasure and privilege

to present the Medical Examiner
of the Year Award.

From the National Association
of Medical Examiners,

in recognition of
her contributions to the field
of forensic pathology,

this year's winner is
the Chief Medical Examiner
for the State of Maryland,

Dr. Julianna Cox.

[applause]

Thank you very much, Dr. Frost,
and all my colleagues in NAME.

Um, this is great. I've never
actually won anything before.

Um, the convention's
been terrific,

and, uh, this is quite an honor,
and I thank you very much.

- [applause]
- Congratulations.

[ME 1] Insect activity in the
corpse marks the time of death

as approximately 72 hours
before discovery of the body,

but we don't know
where the crime occurred

until we call in
our forensic entomologist.

Forensic entomologist?

My, my, my!
Talk about your specialists.
I'm a little jealous.

So, how's he crack it?

By analyzing the larva in
the soft tissue of the victim

as a species of bottle fly

indigenous to
the Delaware River Gap.

So, the corpse was concealed
outdoors long enough
for the fly to lay its eggs,

and then driven to
New Jersey and dumped, hmm?

- Exactly.
- Not bad.

In fact, pretty nifty.

However, I've got one for you.

A few weeks ago,
I get a call at home.

Now,
it sounds like a straight-up,
no-frills suicide.

A jumper.

- Munch. Kellerman.
- Dr. Cox.

What have we got here?
Who's our unlucky leaper?

[Kellerman]
White male. Twenties.

- Name?
- Not yet.

[Cox] So what do we know?

Well, he took a header
off the roof.

- You been up there?
- Yeah.

No signs of a struggle or
presence of a second party.

Several bystanders witnessed
his lift-off as strictly
a solo flight by all accounts.

Well, what are we talking here,
seven stories?

[Munch] Note the mangled awning,
mute testimony to
his tragic trajectory.

Looks like a pretty
straightforward suicide.

I see absolutely no reason why

we can't all catch
the nine o'clock movie
at The Charles.

- Yeah. Right.
- Yeah, yeah.

- What?
- I wouldn't jump to any
conclusions, Doctor, as it were.

[camera shutter clicking]

I don't understand.
That looks like a gunshot wound.

I say, Holmes.
Shotgun, if I'm not mistaken.

Which might make it... a murder!

- It's a 12-gauge.
- 16.

- You wanna bet?
- You're on.

All right.

[theme music playing]

[*]

[*]

- [phone ringing]
- [Giardello] Homicide.

More than apparent.
Now, several bystanders saw him

perched on the edge of this roof
for a good five minutes
before he jumped.

And after examination, you found
a significant gunshot wound.

No, more than significant.
It was fatal.

[clinking]

He was suicidal.

He goes to the roof
to kill himself.

Stands on the edge.

Gathers his nerve.

And just as he's
about to jump, mmm!

He gets shot in the back
by an unseen assailant

who leaves no trace
of his presence behind.

All right, all right. Actually,
yes, that was my first thought.

However...

Uh-uh. He was shot in the chest,
not in the back.

[Munch] Our eyewitnesses say
he was facing the street.

- Maybe he was shot
on the way down.
- Upside-down, you mean.

Maybe he was shot
after he hit the ground.

Somebody wanted to
make sure he was dead,

- delivered the coup de grâce.
- Overkill, don't you think?

Well, you can't be too careful.
Remember Rasputin?

- Actually, I don't.
- Rasputin? They poisoned him,
they stabbed him,

they shot him 12 times,
and then they stuffed him
in a burlap bag

and they dumped him in
the Neva River to drown.

And here's the beauty part:
an hour later,

he pops up five miles downstream
still ticking.

Well, that's why
you're a great detective,
'cause you know stuff.

Except about weapons.
It's definitely a 12-gauge.

You saw the pellet
spread on that, right?

- You're a duck hunter now?
Is that it?
- Oh, and you are?

Well, at least I know
the difference between
a mallard and merganser.

Did anybody hear a shot?

One woman thought she heard
something a split second after

our pal launched his short but
brilliant career as a kamikaze.

- Which would mean that
he was shot in the air.
- [Kellerman] Right.

Like I said,
somebody sees him getting ready
to cash in his chips,

takes the opportunity for
a little moving target practice,
human skeet shooting.

Yeah, well,
our other eyewitnesses
didn't hear anything,

transfixed as they were by
the sight of this shooting star
plummeting to the earth.

- Enough with the metaphors.
- Without metaphors,
what are we left with?

We have a riddle
surrounded by a mystery

wrapped inside an enigma
and stuffed in a body bag.

[laughs] Well, I guess we're
not gonna make that showing
of The Full Monty after all.

- [pager beeping]
- [Munch] Is that me?

- [Cox] No, it's me.
- [pager beeping]

Well, I am so sorry.
Duty calls. I've got to go.

Wait, wait, wait!
You're not going anywhere!
Wait a minute!

No, no, no, the rest of you
are on vacation. For me,
this is just a busman's holiday.

- [ME 2] Come on!
- You can't leave us hanging!

I'll see you at happy hour.
How's that?

I'll be taking this with me.

Don't have too much fun
without me. See you later.

[laywer] Well, I'd say
sole custody's a long shot.

Even shared custody.

But you agreed to
the present arrangement
as part of the divorce decree,

and unless there is
a compelling reason,

no judge is gonna overturn
the original order.

I have to get him out
of that environment, okay?
My ex, she has this boyfriend--

- Do you think he's
a danger to your son?
- Yeah. He's a drunk.

On what do you base
your characterization?

I checked the guy's records.
Last year he racked up a DUI.

- One arrest?
- How many do you need?

The guy should not be
around my kid. He's a menace.

- It's irresponsible
of Daniel's mother.
- All right.

We can file the papers
if you want.

I just think I ought to warn you

that I don't think
we got much of a chance.

Yeah, well, I'm not afraid.
This is important.

Definite non-starter.

- [Ballard] Why do you say that?
- Street dealer.

- You know this guy?
- No, I don't have to.

The way he's dressed,
the neighborhood he's in.

Well, department policy, right?
We're not supposed to profile
people

according to their ethnicity
or neighborhood
or socio-economic status.

What a crock!
What else does a cop do?

Okay,
so call it an educated guess
based on years of experience.

So he's a dealer.
That makes him a non-starter?

That makes him one more unknown
soldier of the drug wars.

Instead of investigating
his murder,

we ought to build him a tomb.

A mook like this,

what we call
"collateral casualty."

Hope I never get
that cynical in this job.

Yeah? Well, just wait.

- Hey.
- Hey, there.

[Cox] Oh, let me guess.
Drug dealer?

Oh, heaven forbid I should
profile anyone prematurely.

[Cox laughs] Right.

Okay...

Wow, mercy!
Somebody was really, really
ticked off with this young man.

How'd it go?

Well, he says I got all of a
clam's chance on Mount Everest.

- That good, huh?
- Put it this way:
it'd be like, uh...

Mike Tyson and Evander Holyfield
sitting down at dinner.

Theoretically possible, but...

So what are you gonna do,
give up on the whole thing?

Hell, no.
Gonna make her work for it.

Maybe I'll get lucky.
I'll find a sympathetic judge
or something.

This no-fault divorce,
it's a laugh, man!

Let me tell you something,
it's all about fault.

You think that divorce
is gonna be a cure.

It's just swapping one set
of problems for another.

Well...

I guess that's why
some people choose

the other solution: murder.

Don't think it didn't
cross my mind.

- [Cox] Oh, hey.
- Hey. What do we got?

Well, we found at least
26 identifiable entry wounds.

Missed it by four.
Like the commissioner said,

"Drive-bys are out,
executions are in."

[chuckles] We recovered about
a dozen or so suitable slugs,

- mostly .38s.
- More than one shooter?

Well, there could've
been a whole regiment.

Any idea who this fellow is?

Someone from the neighborhood
gave us a street name

and we took it down to Narcotics
to identify, but, uh...

They got a whole bunch
of new people over there.

They don't know the territory,
they don't know the players.

You should talk to Stivers.
She was in Narcotics forever

before she went to Sex Crimes.

Hey, how's the MEs' convention?

Congratulations on
the big award.

Oh, yeah, thanks.
Actually, I just telling
some of my colleagues about

that weird jumper case that
Munch and Kellerman caught.

A shotgun blast
perforated his chest,

severed all the major arteries,
shredded his heart and lungs.

Fatal, no question.

- So it is murder?
- [Cox] Well, not necessarily.

If his intent was
to commit suicide
and he would've died anyway

as a result of injuries incurred
from jumping off the roof,

it's still suicide,
in my opinion.

Well, then it's suicide.

- Seven-story fall kills him,
no question.
- [Cox] Not necessarily.

If the awning slowed
his momentum sufficiently,

then he might have survived
his fall, had he not been shot,

in which case, it's a homicide.

So you're saying with a little
bit of luck, he could've been
left a pulverized, paralyzed,

drooling, brain-dead,
incontinent individual
with very few prospects

for future happiness
and full-time employment?

I'm gonna run some tests.

It's homicide if the shot
was fired with intent.

If it was an accidental
discharge, on the other hand...

Don't you hate
when that happens?

...then we're talking
manslaughter.

You know,
with that little mustache
and those beady little eyes,

he looks like a cross between
Steve Buscemi, John Waters,
and Edgar Allan Poe.

- Aren't they all the same guy?
- Okay, stay with me here, guys.

We've ruled out
the shooter on the roof.

We don't know yet if
he would've survived the fall.

Well, we don't know much, do we?

Well, we know that
he was shot after he jumped,

- but before he hit the ground.
- Right. Which I said.

- By someone from
inside the building.
- How do we know that?

Because we found hundreds
of minute fragments of glass

and wooden window frame
and glazier's putty
embedded in the body.

[Munch] So much for
my coup de grâce theory.

[Cox] He was definitely
shot by someone

as he plummeted
past their window.

So Munch and Kellerman
went back to the building,

looking for telltale signs,

clues to the location
where the shot had come from.

Detective work is
not always neurosurgery.

I can't believe
we missed that last night.

Well, it was dark.
It's hard to tell an open window

- from one that's been
blown to smithereens.
- [knocking on door]

- [man] Yeah?
- Mr. Cochran. We'd like to ask
you a few questions, please.

Uh... oh, yeah.
Sure. Sure. Come in.

[Munch] Thank you.

Oh, thank God!
The long arm of the law!

Uh, do you by any chance
happen to own a shotgun?

I've been waiting for this!

Yes, matter of fact, I do.
Want me to go get it?

Why don't you just point me
in the right direction?

Okay. Turn right there
in the hallway--

And it's on the left-hand side.
Excuse me.

Yes, turn right here,
and then it's the second closet
on the left.

- I'm telling him. Shh. Yeah.
- [Emily] All the way down.
Keep going.

- This one?
- Yeah.

- Is it loaded?
- It's never loaded.

- Ha!
- Well, almost never.

Mr. Cochran, did you have
occasion to discharge
that weapon on Friday night?

- Yeah, I confess, I did.
- And he was aiming
the damn thing at me.

- You may be guilty of murder.
- We're not sure yet.

- But I didn't hit her.
- No! Just terrorized me
emotionally.

[screaming]

You shot the guy who was jumping
off the roof of your building.

Somebody jumped off
the roof of our building?

- You didn't hear
about the suicide?
- We don't get out much.

How could I murder somebody
who was committing suicide?

You killed him before
he finished killing himself.

I didn't even know
he was out there!

If you try to kill A
and kill B instead,
it's still murder.

But I wasn't trying to kill her.
I was just threatening her.

- I've been doing it for years.
- It's true, he has.

You threaten your wife
with a loaded shotgun?

Of course not!
Don't be ridiculous. Unloaded.

Oh, he points the shotgun at me,
pulls the trigger,

- says, "boom,"
and cackles like a maniac.
- Boom! [cackling]

- [chuckles]
- See?
See what I have to live with?

- [groans]
- Mr. and Mrs. Cochran,
please sit down.

- Yeah, yeah.
- Now, when was the last time

you two staged this little
pas de deux of connubial bliss?

Uh, before last night?
I don't know, ages ago.

Thanksgiving, to be exact.
A real knock-down drag-out.

- Precipitating incident?
- Excuse me?

- Why'd you wave the gun at her?
- I scorched the gravy,
in his opinion.

Scorching has nothing
to do with opinion, Emily.
It's a chemical fact.

- [Emily] No-- Oh, chemical--
- Yeah, you heard me.
Whole meal was a disaster.

Started with
the cranberry sauce,
went downhill from there.

- But the gun was unloaded?
- Right!

And it's been in
that closet since?

Oh, he likes to keep it handy.

What made you
take it out last night?

She burned the pot roast,

turned it into
charcoal briquettes.

- I blackened it.
- Oh, black-- What are we
talking, cajun pot roast?

- Cajun pot--
- Give me a break--

Whoa! So between
Thanksgiving and last night,

who loaded it? Elves?

I don't know. I wouldn't be
surprised if she did.

Yeah, trying to
get me into trouble.

A perfect case of cutting off
your nose to spite your face.

Oh, sure, sure.

And I was the second gunman
on the grassy knoll, too.

Senile dementia.

All right, we're gonna have to
take this with us for evidence.

- It's a 16-gauge.
You owe me 50 bucks.
- [Kellerman] Yeah.

Gentlemen.

So, you are going to
the electric chair.

- And about time!
- It was an accident, Emily!

- We'll get back to you on that.
- Ah, get back to yourself.
Sheesh.

I don't know, Dr. Cox.
If I'd heard this story
from anyone else,

I'd have dismissed it as just
another one of those urban myth.

- Alligators in the sewers
of New York.
- The poodle in the microwave!

I would be skeptical too if
I hadn't caught the case myself.

- [pager beeping]
- Oh...

I am so embarrassed.
As your hostess,

you must think that
Charm City is the murder capital
of the country.

We are not always this busy.

Well, no, I take it back.
Yes, we are, most of time.

- Excuse me. I'll be right back.
- Bye.

I'll call you tomorrow,
okay, Paula?

Thank you.

- Ballard, Gharty, what's up?
- Hey!

Some grisly sex murder?
You need to know

which of my favorite serial
rapists might've crossed a line?

No, no, no.
Just a dead dope-slinger.

The new guys in Narcotics
had no idea who this was.

Jake the Jake.
Real name's Antonio Livingston.

Wow! I'm surprised
he lasted this long.

We gather that
he wasn't the best-liked guy
in the neighborhood.

Uh-huh. Hardly.
Jake was a baker.

- Baker?
- He peddled counterfeit drugs.

He'd sell raw sugar as smack,
oregano spliffs,
baking soda for crack.

Anything white
that fits in a vial.

- Well, he ripped someone off
once too often.
- Might've been more than money.

You can get real sick
snorting or shooting up
one of Jake's products.

If I were you,
I'd check any one of his
many dissatisfied customers.

Great. Must be thousands
in West Baltimore.

You wouldn't wanna help us
get off the schneid on this one,
would you?

[Stivers] Sure.
Let me get my coat,
introduce you to Jake's world.

- Detective Terri Stivers?
- Right.

I wanna thank you in advance for
accepting this in a civilized
and non-confrontational manner.

- [Stivers] Accepting what?
- Hey, I don't read the card.

I just deliver the flowers,
you know?

Have a nice day.

I'm being sued?

Georgia Rae Mahoney.

- [Gharty] Holy cow.
- [Ballard] Ooh.

[*]

So have you ever been sued?

Not for 60 million bucks.

Stivers won't
have to pay a cent.

City's on the hook
for the lion's share.

Yeah, but still,
I don't envy her.

Must be a nightmare.

This Luther Mahoney shooting,
what a fiasco.

Does anybody know
what really happened?

Besides Stivers, Lewis,
and Kellerman? Luther.

He ain't talking.

Oh, here she comes.

- [Gharty] Hey!
- [Stivers] Hey.

How are you?

So Stoney says
a couple of white boys

in a trashed-out pickup truck
came around looking for
Jake yesterday.

Seems they were
very unhappy with his product.

- White boys? Isn't that unusual?
- Not very.

They roll up the hill
from Pigtown, Morrell Park.

Five minutes away, this is
the closest place to get a fix.

How trashed out was the truck?

Bonafide city goat stretch.

Bailing wire,
caulking compound, and string.

Not to profile anybody,
Ballard, but...

whites in a neighborhood
like this, which is 99% Black,

drug bazaar on every corner,
chances are they're dope fiends.

Or cops.

Have fun.
I gotta go find a lawyer.

Yeah, well,
thanks for your help, bud.

My pleasure.

It's a nice break from my life.

[Lewis] So he says,
"Then I'll eat my way
to your heart."

- [Falsone sighs]
- [Lewis chuckling]

Either of you gentlemen
Detective Lewis?

- That's me.
- I have something for you.

What's this?
Fan mail from a flounder?

Ah, you're too young.

Georgia Rae?

The other spiked heel
finally dropped, huh?

With a vengeance.

Wrongful death civil suit.

She claims that Kellerman killed
her brother in cold blood,

and that Stivers and I
connived to cover it up.

Well?

- Well what?
- [process server] Either of you
gentlemen happen to know

where my old friend
Detective Kellerman is
at the present moment?

Yeah. Follow me.

So where was I? Thank you.

Ah. They'd found
the old couple with the shotgun.

- The murder weapon.
- Ah, yes, the Cochrans.

But... was it murder?

That was the question.

So I ran some projections
based on velocity, distance,

body weight of our John Doe,
speed with which
he struck the awning,

angle of impact at the sidewalk.

I even tried to factor in
the torque of the shotgun blast.

The shotgun torque?

How about prevailing breezes?

And the bottom line is?

Assuming median emergency
response time and no mistakes
by the paramedics...

[Kellerman] A major assumption.

...I think
he might have survived.

- So it's a homicide?
- Tentatively.

Tentative homicide?

Avec torque.

Of course, it was impossible
to determine to a certainty

whether our John Doe would've
survived his suicide attempt,

but I thought that the odds
in his favor were pretty good.

Was the old man guilty of murder
or of manslaughter?

Depending on his intent,
of course, and whether or not
he knew the gun was loaded.

Before you answer that,
I have to give a paper on
ligature strangulation.

- Could we continue this
over dinner?
- Absolutely. Tomorrow night.

- [MEs groan]
- Sorry. I'm booked till then.

- Tomorrow night it is.
- [Cox] Okay.

[overlapping farewells]

[scoffs] Uh-- Um...

Okay. Um...

I'll get it. You can just...

[Ballard] Why do you
call them "city goats"?

Hillbillies.

Appalachia's only 90 miles
from here due west.

They started coming to
Baltimore during the war.

Get out of the mines,
look for work. Still do.

Except these days, there isn't
any. Unless they wanna sell
T-shirts to the inner harbor.

Looky, looky. Here we go.

[Ballard] How do you know
these are the guys
that we're looking for?

[Gharty] I don't know.
We'll bust them, lean on 'em,
see what they know.

You know,
if these aren't our guys,

they're probably cousins,
kinfolk of some kind.

Oh, God!
That is such a stereotype.

[Gharty] I'm telling you, all
these hillbillies are related.

[chuckles] You'll see.

When we catch 'em, we'll get 'em
to take off their shoes.

- What? Why?
- Six toes on each foot,
webbing in between.

- [Ballard] Oh, stop it!
- [Gharty] You think I'm kidding?

Oh, what,
it's not politically correct?

- Uh, no. Absolutely not.
- [Gharty] Which part?

City goats, hillbillies,
the whole thing, sir.

You would prefer "white trash"?

Now, why is that less offensive
than any other racial epithet?

It's not racial,
it's descriptive.
Look at the truck.

- [Ballard] Stuart!
- It must've been so difficult
being a cop in Seattle,

you know, having to come up
with all those euphemisms.

How about
"chromosomally challenged"?

- [Ballard] Okay...
- No?

-"Inbred gene pool syndrome."
- [Ballard] Okay.

- [engine revving]
- [Gharty] Oh, damn.
Oh, they made us.

Like the lady said,
dope fiends and cops. Hang on.

[*]

[*]

[tires screeching]

[*]

[Ballard] Name, address.
Just give me anything you got.

Yes.

Thank you.

- Douglas McCord.
- You got a name?

- [Ballard] Yeah.
- I'm surprised that truck

even had a license plate, much
less a current registration.

South Carey Street?

Scary Street.

Whoa...

- Let's run his sheet before
we go, see what we got on him.
- All right.

[Giardello] Well, now...

the Georgia Rae lawsuit.

Besides the two of you
and Stivers,

she's also suing the city,

the police department, and me.

It was a clean shooting.
We were cleared.
She's got no case.

The standard of proof in
a civil case is much lower.

This is a high-profile lawsuit.

The boss is already
looking for scapegoats.

Sorry to drag you
in on this, Gee.

- So what happens to us now?
- [Giardello] Stay on
active rotation.

Go about your business
as much as possible.

Act like nothin' ever happened?
A little late for that.

- I'll do whatever
I can to support you.
- Thanks. I appreciate it.

[Giardello] Is there anything
I should know about this?

Now's the time to tell me.
Don't leave me
twisting in the wind.

No,
it went down just like we said.

See that?

Used to be
the Pigtown public baths.

Five cents a scrub,
and if you were really
in the mood to splurge,

another nickel for a towel
and a cardboard comb.

I've never seen
a cardboard comb.

I don't think
they make 'em anymore.

There is a whole sense
of history here

that they do not have out west.

Baltimore is one of those places

where history has people
by the throat on a daily basis.

[knocking]

We're looking for
Douglas McCord.

[baby crying]

Who are you? The police?

Baltimore City detectives,
ma'am.

- We just wanna talk with him.
- He in trouble?

No, no. We were hoping
he can help us out on something.

- He ain't here.
- You know where we can find him?

- I ain't seen him.
- [Ballard] Well,
he does live here, right?

His truck is registered
to this address.

Um... some. Time to time.

When'd you see him last?

It's hard to tell.
He-- he comes and goes.

Anyone else live here who could
tell us where Douglas is?

Can't think of nobody.

- Uh, who's Rodney?
- Rodney?

[Ballard] Rodney McCord?

Oh, uh...

Doug's brother.

- Well, where's he?
- He ain't here.

Well, do you know where
old Douglas or Rodney might be?

I don't. I-- I surely don't.

Well, then when would be
a good time for us to come back
when we can catch up with them?

Oh, any time.

It don't matter.

Whenever.
Tomorrow, the next day.

[Ballard] What,
you're not expecting them?

No. Not really.

Come on, let's go.
This is a waste of time.

Listen, here's my card.

Why don't you tell Douglas
to call me when he returns?
It's Laura Ballard.

- And, uh, your name, ma'am?
- Donna.

- Donna what?
- [scoffs] McCord!

So you are Douglas
and Rodney's sister?

[laughing] Oh, hell no.

I'm their mama!

[chuckles] I'm sorry, you're
too young to be their mother.

Well, somebody should've
told their daddy that.

- A stereotype, huh?
- Yeah, okay.

You know that old expression
"head for the hills"?

- Yeah.
- When they're in trouble,

that's what they do.
Go back home.

I'll bet our guys are hiding out

with Jed and Jethro
until the coast is clear.

Well, according to his sheet,

the first time Douglas was
paroled was to an uncle
in Allegheny County.

- What do you think?
- I mean, what the hell?
It's 90 miles away, so.

- Should we clear it
with Giardello?
- Why? We just wanna talk to 'em.

Hey, I'm game.

[overlapping chatter]

[saw whirring]

- Hey.
- [Kellerman] How are you?

- I'm okay. How are you?
- I've been better.

I can't seem to get out
from under the justice system.

[Cox] Yes, I know. I heard.

Yeah, well,
it must be all over town.

It'll be in the papers tomorrow,
on the late news tonight.

- I'm really sorry.
- It's like the song says,

"I fought the law
and the law won."

You have dinner plans?

Um, yes, unfortunately.
It's just colleagues.

- ME shop talk over dinner?
- Yeah.

You wanna come? You can join us.

Mmm, formaldehyde and focaccia?
No, thanks.

How about--
We could do it tomorrow night.

- Sure.
- [Cox] Yeah?

- [Kellerman] Yeah.
- Good.

- Okay, well, I'm--
I should probably go--
- Right.

Okay.

- Dr. Cox?
- What do you want?

- Detective. Dr. Cox, am I late?
- No, I just was about to begin.

I better go find a seat.
I've been looking forward
to your talk.

[Cox] Wha--

Sorry.

Get out of here!

This is America?

Makes Baltimore look like Paris,
doesn't it?

[Ballard]
I can see why they'd wanna be
on the first bus out of here.

They love it, though. Lot of 'em
never stop going back and forth.

The lure of the hills.

- [Ballard] I gotta tell ya--
- [Gharty] No hillbillies
where you come from?

- Whoa, Nellie!
- [Ballard] Not like this.

Baltimore must've been
a revelation.

Uh, yeah. West Coast ghettos
are deceptively pleasant.

Ugh! You know,
single-family homes. And yards.

You can't see
the harder stuff underneath.

When I first got to Baltimore,
I thought, "Okay.

This is the real thing.
This is not make-believe tough,

this is hardcore tough,
East Coast tough."

You know,
which is what I wanted.
I wanted to test myself.

Someone's living
in that pigeon coop.

It's a shock to see white people
live like this, isn't it?

Yeah, as a matter of fact.

It's, uh-- it's so third-world.

[rock music playing]

[song lyrics playing]

[*]

[*]

[*]

[Lewis] Hey. Georgia Rae.

[Georgia Rae] Detective Lewis.
I see you're up to speed.

- I wanna talk to you
about this here document.
- Make an appointment.

Which one of your
genius mouthpieces cooked up
this little scam, huh?

My idea. If you'd like to be
dropped from the suit in
exchange for your testimony

as to what really happened
the day my brother was murdered,

I'm sure Mr. Lansing
would be more than happy
to speak with you.

Sounds good. Let me lay it out
for you right here.

What happened on that day was
that your brother put a gun to
my head and got hisself killed.

- Now drop me from this suit!
- If you're worried about
criminal prosecution,

we can certainly talk immunity
on your behalf with
the State's Attorney's Office.

No doubt.
You got a cop on the pad.

Why not a prosecutor?
Why not a judge?

I'm just a small businesswoman
trying to get the system
to work for me.

Nah.

No, you're a murderer
and a drug dealer.

Now why don't you stick this
where you used to mule crack
and skank for Colombians?

[Lewis grunts]

[Georgia Rae exclaims]

No, no! No, no, no!

- No, don't!
- [Lewis groans]

[Georgia Rae chuckles]

[Lewis grunts]

[Georgia Rae laughing]

Yeah,
inadmissible in a million years.

We can still send that to
the lab, and if it is involved,

then we will just sit
and wait for Douglas and Rodney

to saunter on back to
the bright lights of Baltimore.

We're gonna spend all our free
weekends for the next two years

chasing those city goats around,
I can feel it.

Well, what can I say?
I do not believe in
collateral casualties.

And besides,
I got sucker-punched,
and I do believe in payback.

This is the way
rumors get started.

We have the right
to remain silent.

Under the circumstances,
that's probably
a real good idea.

[chuckles]
We went to Allegheny County
to interview some suspects.

- [Gharty] Yeah, unofficial.
- Hillbillies, huh?

Genuine third-generation
city goats.

Little out of your jurisdiction,
isn't it?

That's true.
What were you thinking of?

Pretty rough crowd up there.
You're lucky to be alive.

Yeah, well,
we just went to interview them.

If they hadn't run...

[Billie Lou]
What are their names?

- McCord. Why?
- Hmm.

I still got relations up there.

- You?
- It's the same as anywhere.

Works better for some
than others. Some folks get out,
some get left behind.

[chuckles]
Can I buy you a drink?

Thanks. [laughs]

Uh...
Munch says you're a composer.

Pea-tory Conserva-body,
class of '74.

- That's-- that's
Peabody Conservatory.
- Yeah, I got that.

What kind of music do you write?
Bluegrass?

Ow! What?

Not bluegrass.
Atonal minimalism.

What kind of minimalism?

Atonal minimalism.

Oh.

I'm a-- I'm a tonal man myself.

Somehow I just knew
that about you, Stu.

[chuckles]

[hushed] She's crazy about me.

Oh, yeah.
Sure, you're the bee's knees!

You are ridiculous. "Tonal."

What? This-- this is flirting.
This is harmless fantasy.

Well, it's like
Rotisserie baseball.

- Rotisserie baseball?
- Yeah.

You are pathetic.

I am not pathetic.

I am... romantic.

[clinking]

Okay, enough
inconsequential chit-chat.

Let's have
the rest of the story.

Yeah.
Will you quit torturing us?

[Cox] Oh, you love it.

Previously,
in the ME's office...

Yes, previously.

Previously,
I determined that our John Doe

might very well have
survived his suicide plunge.

Still didn't know who he was.

We didn't know if the Cochrans
were telling the truth,

but if they were,
who loaded the shotgun and why?

And who, if anyone,
was culpable for his murder?

- If it was a murder.
- So, you know, if the Cochrans
are telling the truth,

it was an accident.
It's not murder.

Reckless disregard for
life and limb at their age?

Probation and
three Hail Marys, max.

Find out who loaded the gun
and why.

You want me to get
the old couple in the Box, Gee,

and sweat 'em
and give 'em the third degree?

Rubber hoses? Truncheons?

- Try talking to them
first, huh, Munch?
- Gotcha.

[Cox] Armed with a warrant,
they went back to
the Cochrans' apartment.

Did you bring me back
my shotgun?

It's evidence. How many times
we got to tell you?

You're not out of the woods yet.

But are you positive
it was my shotgun that
fired the fatal shot?

What? You think there were
other people taking potshots

at that guy when
he jumped off the building?

Trust me, it's the only thing
we're positive of.

- [Munch] What have we here?
- [George] What?

[Munch] Don't tell me
you don't know what these are.

Well, I don't. For all I know,
they could be cannolis.

16-gauge shotgun shells? We're
not gonna find your fingerprints
all over these bad boys, are we?

- No, sir, no way.
- What about you?

Are you crazy?
I wouldn't touch those things.

George Jr. put 'em away for me.

I asked him to get 'em
out of my sight.

- George Jr.?
- [Emily] Uh-huh.

[Cox]
The lab lifted a fingerprint
from the box of shells,

which we had to assume
belonged to the Cochrans' son.

So, Munch brought
Junior's parents in for
a little chat in the Box.

So, when was the last time
you saw George Jr.?

- Uh, Thanksgiving.
- [Kellerman] Where's he live?

We'd like to talk to him,
match his prints.

Well, we're estranged.
Thanks a lot.

- Had a falling out.
- I know what "estranged" means.
Why?

- I cut off his allowance.
- Well, how old is George Jr.?

- 30.
- 29.

- And he was mad about it?
- Oh, he was furious.

He stormed out of our house
and went back to Tulsa, and...

we haven't heard from him since.

[whispering]

- That is so rude!
- Emily! Jeez!

Do you think that before
Junior returned to Tulsa,

he might've lingered long enough
to pop a couple of cannolis
in the old blunderbuss?

Why would he do
a thing like that?

Well,
he knows you play this game.
You terrorize your wife.

- [screaming]
- You pulled the trigger.

Boom! [cackling]

- Laugh like a maniac.
- So Junior loads the gun,

figured you'd
start waving it around,

it goes off, and bye-bye, Mom.

But instead, it misses her
and hits some poor schmo

who just happens to
drop by at that moment.

What he really meant to do
is get back at both of you

- by killing his mother...
- [Emily gasps]

...and framing you
for her murder.

- [Emily] Oh, how horrible!
- No, no, no.

[Cox] Munch and Kellerman
then laid it out for Giardello,

who saw a few flaws
in their theory.

Did you find Junior's prints
on the shotgun?

No, just the father's.

[Giardello]
Have you found Junior?

We made inquiries
in the Tulsa area,

but, uh, nothing so far.

Kellerman, his prints--
if they are his prints--

on the box of shells
means nothing.

Now, is he or is he not
a viable suspect?

It depends on how you define
"viable suspect."

He had motive.
You know, Mommy and Daddy
cut off his allowance.

- Have we even
identified the victim?
- John Doe jumper? Not yet.

That's priority. He's gotta
have a family somewhere.

Yeah, Missing Persons
is trying to make a match.

- No one's come forward?
- They may not know.
The condition of the body

precluded our putting
his picture in the paper.

Look, identify the jumper.

Get George--
What are you laughing at?

Find George and talk to him!

Get Cox to make
a determination whether
it's homicide or suicide.

Now, charge the parents
or leave 'em alone!
Close the damn case!

- Well, did you?
- Did I what?

- Find the son?
- [ME 1] Identify the jumper?

Make a determination,
suicide or homicide?

- Close the case?
- Okay, okay, okay!
I'll level with you.

I finally broke the case
when I ID'd the victim.

- How'd you do that?
- Old-fashioned way.
Fingerprints.

- [ME 2] Fingerprints?
- Fingerprinting John Doe
is standard procedure.

Yes, I know that,
which of course I did,
but unfortunately,

our John Doe had never been
printed while he was alive,

therefore I couldn't match it.

So, one evening
I'm standing out on the pier.

I'm looking at
the reflection of the clouds
and the moon in the water,

and all of a sudden, it hits me,
and I get this epiphany.

Reflection. Mirrored images.

I race back to the lab,
and I compare my set of prints

to the prints that
Munch and Kellerman lifted off
of that box of shotgun shells.

- Bingo!
- Bingo what?

- I don't get it.
- They matched.

The dead man in my morgue,

John Doe jumper...

was George Cochran Jr.

The guy who jumped from
the roof to commit suicide,

but was hit and killed
by a shotgun blast
on his way down...

Was the son of the man
who fired the shot?

One and the same.

Angry at his mother for
cutting him off financially

and despondent over
his father's unexpected failure
to threaten his mother,

thereby triggering George Jr.'s
elaborate revenge scheme...

The Cochrans were getting
along better after Thanksgiving,
thanks to couples counseling.

Junior decides
to commit suicide.

Ironically,
he picks the very night

that his mother burns the
pot roast to a smoking cinder,

sending his father
into a paroxysm of rage.

Damn it,
I told you what would happen
if you burned anything else.

- [Munch] Cochran
gets the shotgun...
- [Emily screaming]

- ...and fires.
- Boom!

[Kellerman] Just as George Jr.

is passing by their window,
so to speak.

[Giardello] Why did Junior
come all the way back from Tulsa

to jump off
his parents' rooftop?

He wanted to throw it
in their faces.

Figured they'd be the ones
to identify the body.

Unfortunately for him,
he drastically underestimated

his parents' total lack of
interest in the outside world.

[Cox] Yeah, they had no idea
that the jumper was their son
until we told them.

They finally cam down to the
morgue and made a positive ID.

Oh, no, no! Oh, George!

Oh, no, no!
Don't take him away!
My son, oh, God! Oh, no!

[Cox]
John Doe jumper was George Jr.

No doubt about it.

Suicide. Avec torque.

What's torque?

With a twist.

And the rest,
as they say, is mythic.

This time,
you can pick up the check.

- [Giardello] What the hell
were you doing?
- She assaulted me, Gee!

Georgia Rae's attorneys were
on the phone with Barnfather,

the mayor's office,

before you could scrape
yourself off the bank floor.

Harassment. Intimidation.
Not to mention assault.

Wha-- what are we
supposed to do, Gee?

Just lie down and let this woman

manipulate us
without fightin' back?

Uh-uh. Nah, nah.

I wanted to send her a message.
No free ride.

She gonna be in my face,
I'ma be in her face.
Every step of the way.

Meldrick,
in her face is one thing,
breaking it is another.

You're suspended.

Indefinitely.

Barnfather's orders.

- Well, talk him out of it.
- No.

For once, I agree with him.

You agree with him?

Fine.

Where you going, Meldrick?

Get some cigarettes.

But you don't smoke.

[Lewis sighs]

[*]