All language subtitles for Homicide.Life.on.the.Street.S06E16.Mercy.1080p.PCOK.WEB-DL.DD2.0.x264-NTb_track4_[eng]

[heart monitor beeping]

You been
to Edgar Allan Poe's house?

- Been to the grave.
- Babe Ruth's?

Birthplace or museum?

Isn't it the same thing?

I wouldn't know.
I go to real museums.

Well, I don't know,
it never crossed my mind.

- Not even the Walters?
- No.

- American Visionary?
- [Bayliss chuckles]

- Great Blacks In Wax?
- Great Blacks In Wax?

- Yeah, I'll take you sometime.
- Yeah. I look forward to that.

[Pembleton] Well, how about
when you're out of town?

You're in New York, let's say,

and you ever say to yourself,
"Hey, I wonder

who's at the Met, the Modern,
the Whitney, the [indistinct]"?

-"The [indistinct]"?
Who says "The [indistinct]"?
- I do.

Now that I live in Baltimore,
I can't wait to get back
to the Big Apple

with all the other
small-town rubes,
and stand on line.

Now why do New Yorkers
say "stand on line?"

- Instead of what?
- In line, stand in line.

Sounds better.

"Online," that's the internet,

"in line"
is a subway token booth.

No, "in line" is [indistinct].

[doorbell rings]

Sergeant Burns,
what have we got?

- Arthur Robinson. 52.
- [Pembleton] Okay.

Listen, I wanted
to talk to you guys
before I called the ME.

Yeah, now that you mention it,
it doesn't look like a murder.

Looks like somebody
took sick, and died.

Okay, next time, Sergeant Burns,

in the absence
of obvious foul play,
get in contact with the ME,

and they'll call Homicide
if smell something fishy, okay?

Uh, there was
an attending physician.

"Respiratory failure,
end stage colon cancer,

Dr. Roxanne Turner."

- Where's Dr. Turner?
- She went back to her office.

So why did you rattle our cage?

You have a problem
with the diagnosis?

Not me,
one of Mr. Robinson's sisters

has some concerns.

[sobbing] I asked
the officer to call you.

Um, your name, ma'am?

Alberta Wells.

Ms. Wells,
you wanted to speak with
a homicide detective because...

Because my brother
didn't die of colon cancer.

He was murdered.

- Oh, Alberta!
- She killed him, Lucy!

- [Pembleton] She who?
- Dr. Turner.

Dr. Turner killed my brother.

[theme song playing]

[*]

[officer] Homicide.

Mm, gardenia.

No, it's hibiscus.

- What do you think?
- Oh, it's very you.

- It's not too--
- What?

Masculine?

[laughs] I got news for you.
It's not masculine.

It's perfume.

It-- it's not too--
What's the word?

Muscular or overpowering.

Well, you don't slap it on
like aftershave, Stuart.

- I know that.
- Here, you go like this.

Pretty. Mm, mm, mm.

Smell.

Ah. Whoa.

Yeah, that's probably
not a good idea.

Why not?

Well, you know,

perfume is such
an individual taste.

It's like lingerie.

Lingerie? [laughs]

- Who's this for?
- Nobody. Nobody.

You wanna go have a little
funnel cake or something?

- I'm starving.
- [Ballard laughs]

My brother died of colon cancer.

He had colon cancer.

He died because she killed him.

You're accusing
Dr. Turner of euthanasia?

If that's the medical excuse
for murder, then, yes, I am.

Now there are some,
I suppose, that consider it

to be mercy killing.

- Your brother was dying.
- I don't dispute that.

But he would have lived
for another month or two
at the very least,

if she hadn't intervened.

Dr. Turner
was devoted to Arthur.

She made the end
of his life bearable.

From the day he got sick
until the moment he passed away.

Did you ever see
Dr. Turner treat your brother

in a way that was
inappropriate or dangerous?

Oh, my God,
from day one of her care
he was doped to the gills.

He couldn't recognize
his own flesh and blood.

So you're saying
that Dr. Turner deliberately

administered an overdose
of morphine to your brother?

That is exactly what I'm saying.

Now, the rest of your family
doesn't seem to agree with you.

No. They don't believe it.

They're under her spell.

But there's a way
to find out the truth.

I want an autopsy.

Absolutely not! I forbid it!

You see,
you may not have a choice,

'cause the law
requires an autopsy

whenever there are
suspicious circumstances.

The only suspicious
circumstances in this case

are my sister's
irrational accusations.

Well, we still have to
take them seriously.

Isn't it obvious?

Arthur was crazy
about Dr. Turner.

Alberta's jealous.

She felt replaced.

Replaced.

Yeah, and it didn't faze her
for a single second, you know.

She never missed a beat.

Well, to act guilty, first
you gotta have a conscience.

It's more or less
a prerequisite.

Right, right, well,

this woman
has the heart of a crocodile.

- Hey, isn't that...
- [Gharty] Holy cow!

[Ballard] ...the guys
who shot [indistinct]?

- [Gharty]
Douglass and Rodney McCord.
- [Ballard] Wait! Wait! Wait!

Oh, God.

[suspenseful
instrumental playing]

Where did those city goats go?

[bell chimes]

I made sure he was comfortable.

I eased his suffering
as much as I could.

But that's a far cry
from smothering him

with a pillow
or giving him an overdose.

Why does she
think you killed him?

Mrs. Wells, she wanted us
to use any means necessary

to prolong her brother's life.

Just put him in the hospital,

hook him up to a ventilator
or a feeding tube.

Just all the things that he
expressly said not to do.

Those painful, expensive,

futile procedures
that are pure torture.

And for what reason?

Arthur was very clear
about what he wanted.

He even signed a living will.

No extraordinary measures,
so I didn't do any.

Morphine
didn't kill Arthur Robinson.

Cancer did.

And let me show you
the recreational reading room.

- [Henry] Roxanne?
- Oh, Dr. Sutter.

I'd like you to meet
Detectives Pembleton and Bayliss

from the Baltimore
Police Department.

Welcome, gentlemen.

Dr. Sutter is the director
of St. Jude's here.

- He's my boss, man.
- [laughs] A technicality.

Dr. Turner is a real force
to be reckoned with around here.

The heart and soul of St Jude's.

He flatters me
in lieu of a raise!

I'm giving these guys
the five-cent tour.

[Henry] Excellent. Carry on.

- [Bayliss] Why do you
let them smoke, huh?
- [Pembleton] Why not?

I guess,
they don't have to worry
about their cholesterol either.

Oh, if they do, they shouldn't.

Full house?

Well, we usually have somewhere
between 10 and 20 residents.

Probably twice as many of them

are our outpatients
like Mr. Robinson.

[Bayliss] Is that
a lot or a little?

Depends on how you
look at it, you know.

The hospice movement,
it's still small,
but it's growing.

Given the choice, I think
most people really would
rather die at home

or at the hospice
rather than some
anonymous institution

like a hospital
or a nursing home.

- You can-- Sit down.
- [Pembleton] Oh, thanks.

You know, I think,
given the choice,

I'd rather die
on the dance floor
frugging the night away.

-"Frugging"?
- Yeah, New Year's Eve.

Strobe light,
big glitter ball,
a sexy partner.

- [snaps fingers]
- I have an aneurysm
right at the stroke of midnight.

And I am dead
before I hit the ground.

Well, if you're
frugging the night away,
you deserve a massive aneurysm.

Now, you and I,
we have something in common.

- What? A hospice doctor
and a homicide detective?
- Mm-hmm.

- You mean death?
- Mm.

No, your clients
are already dead.

Mine are still very much alive.

You help yours die.

They are going to die.

We treat symptoms if we can.

We prolong life
where it's appropriate.

And who makes that decision?

We do, together.

The patient and I,
a social worker, their family.

Tough call.

Not if you listen.

People know
how much they can bear,

and they deserve the right
to decide for themselves.

That's what the whole
hospice movement is about.

Giving the patient
a say in how they die.

With dignity.

You sound skeptical.

I've seen a lot of death.
Haven't seen much dignity.

Then you and I don't have
that much in common after all.

I see it every day.

The comatose,
the senile, the demented,
you decide for them?

I don't do
what you're suggesting.

What am I suggesting?

I do not commit euthanasia.

[siren wailing]

Hey, partner, ready to roll?

Actually,
I gotta run to the dentist.

- I cracked a filling.
- [Munch] Ooh.

- [phone ringing]
- Homicide, Stivers.

What do you hate more?
The rubber dam they put
in your mouth to open it,

- or the sound of the drill?
- I think the worst part is when
I scream like a little girl.

- [both laughing]
- I'll be back.

Okay, enjoy. Take your time.

[Stivers] All
right, we're on our way.

Hey, got a holdup.

Pizza parlor,
Federal Hill, two down.

All right, let's rock.

Rookies.

You gotta love their enthusiasm.

One of the most
crucial things that we do here
is our palliative care.

It's the pain management.

And what does it mean?
Does it mean narcotics?

Whatever's legal and effective.

[heart monitor beeping]

There's no need
for people to suffer needlessly.

Is suffering needless?

Isn't pain
a theological question
as much as a medical one?

As in God created pain,
so there must be
a reason for it?

- Something like that.
- If God created pain,

he also created poppy
to alleviate that pain.

So why not use it?

Morphine.

I'd give them heroin if I could.

I began my career as an ob-gyn.

So you could say that
I've actually come full circle

from bringing
babies into the world

to seeing them
off into the next.

[dramatic instrumental playing]

[officer] Come on, get him out.

Let me see.

[camera shutter clicks]

"Our lady of Guadalupe School,
sixth grade.

Letitia Morrison."

- [Falsone] So who's this guy?
- [Stivers] The owner,
Edward Khoury.

[*]

Florence Nightingale
wasn't a doctor.

Whatever.

You gotta admit,
she's impressive.

The bane of modern existence.

[Bayliss] What's that?
A non-dairy creamer?

[Pembleton] A euphemism.

If they called it
a petroleum by-product,

you think
you'd put it in coffee?

Well, I'd think twice about it.

Which is my point.
Euphemism lets us off the hook.

"Non-dairy creamer."
"He passed away."

"We put the dog to sleep."

We didn't put the damn dog
to sleep, we killed the dog.

He didn't pass away
from drinking
too much non-dairy creamer,

he died a messy, agonizing death

from ingesting
a carcinogenic substance
unfit for human consumption.

You're in a good mood.

"Living will."

"Living will."
You have a living will, right?

- Yeah, I do, do you?
- Absolutely.

Not about to let
the college money
go down the drain

keeping Daddy on the respirator
in a semi-vegetative state.

- [Bayliss] Mm.
- [Alberta] Excuse me.

You spoke with Dr. Turner?

Yeah, she's very persuasive.

Don't I know it,
she persuaded my brother
to sign that evil document.

Living will
is more like a death warrant.

Have you authorized an autopsy?

See, we haven't
found a reason yet,

that's really up
to the medical examiners.

I'll go to court tomorrow,
and I'll ask the judge
for an autopsy myself.

[footsteps departing]

Well, she's got a personal
thing with the doctor.

Fixation.

Maybe.

Gharty, Ballard,
qu'est-ce que c'est?

[Gharty] Remember
Douglass and Rodney McCord?

Those two hillbillies who iced
that Jamaican burn artist
over some faux cocaine?

Yeah, they are
back in Baltimore.

We spotted them down
at the Inner Harbor.

You guys, two city goats,
smoked some Jake Baker

over a $5 vial of powdered milk,

and you pursued them
to the ends of the earth

like Inspector Javert
after Jean Valjean?

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables?

Am I the only one
around here that can read?

You know,
maybe now the heat's died down,

Douglass and Rodney
moved back in with Mom.

You know what?
Let's go to Scary Street,
Go talk to Donna McCord.

Yeah, I'm game.

I hope your tetanus-rabies
boosters are current.

[gentle violin
instrumental playing]

[Kellerman] Come on.

[muffled chatter]

Judge Gibbons?

Mike Kellerman.

Detective Kellerman.

A face to go with a name.

Perhaps we shouldn't
socialize till after the trial.

Probably wise.

Tell me something before I go.

What's that?

How did a piece
of floating excrement

like Georgia Rae Mahoney's
civil suit

end up in your courtroom?

Simply worked its way
through the system,

so to speak.

It's just coincidence
you're the same judge

who reduced Georgia Rae's bail
on that murder beef?

This conversation is

highly inappropriate, Detective.

You're digging your own grave.

I tend to do that.
Character flaw.

I'm obligated to report this
encounter to your superiors.

But before you do that,
let's just talk theoretically.

Say there's this big-time

lady gangster here in Baltimore,

and say she's got
a couple of cops on her payroll,

a prosecutor or two,
maybe even a judge.

Pending an autopsy,
I ran a tox screen.

Mr. Robinson had a substantial
amount of morphine sulfate
in the system.

Well, we expected that,
he was a terminal
cancer patient.

The doctor was managing
his pain with morphine?

Yeah, so are we
talking mismanagement?

If you consider
massive overdose,

which would result in
respiratory failure and death,

mismanagement, yes.

Can an autopsy prove that?

Wouldn't prove intent.
Might prove malpractice.

Not interested in malpractice.

Well, maybe it was accidental.

He was in a lot of pain.
Maybe she just overdid a little.

By a factor of six,

I'm telling you,
she wasn't even close.

So this judge,

who's in Georgia Rae's pocket,

gets the case assigned to him
and schedules it for trial.

Now the city's scared.

I figure, the fix is in,
they're not going to get
a fair shake from this sleaze.

They have to settle.

What do you think
this guy's cut's going to be?
Ten percent? Twenty?

I'll be speaking with your
lieutenant this afternoon.

That's a good idea.

Because he'll remind you,
in Baltimore,

the Homicide Unit
also investigates kidnappings,

extortion and...

yeah, bribery,

you know, which means
access to all kinds of records,

legal, financial,

records which might
just reveal a pattern

of judicial decisions favorable
to this lady gangster's

criminal organization.

Now you put that
together with a sudden,

unexplained uptick
in the judge's finances--

So what do you have?

A case for the state's
attorney's office?

[chuckles] Hardly.

Well, I think
it's kind of compelling, myself.

No way to prove a direct link

between the judge
and the gangster.

What about the money?

Money can always be explained.

Money is fungible.

You know better than me.

Okay, it might not fly,
but publicity would certainly

put a damper on the judge's
political aspirations.

It might.

It'd be a shame
if false allegations sullied

an otherwise
spotless reputation.

The threat of such allegations

might cause the judge
to make an error under pressure.

During a high-profile
civil suit, say?

Very likely.

Almost inevitable, in fact.

[gentle violin
instrumental playing]

The ME is wrong.

Most terminal patients don't
get enough pain medication.

Palliative care
is stuck in the 19th century.

Doctors are afraid
of over-medicating.

They're so terrified
they may accidentally

overdose a patient
or create an addiction.

Well, shouldn't they be?

Not if they know
what they're doing.

And who cares about addicting
a dying person anyway?

That's absurd.

You're so hung up
on this puritanical notion

of suffering and redemption.

Pain is noble.
Pain is necessary.

Isn't that your position,
Detective?

I'm still
struggling with that one.

God forbid a dying person
experience anything

but agony and misery at the end,

much less
a little bit of pleasure.

What if the patient
actually gets off on it,

hallucinates,
or likes the drugs?

Well, what if the patient
goes into respiratory arrest
from an overdose?

Look, the amount
of morphine I gave Mr. Robinson

would kill you or me
or Detective Bayliss here.

But Arthur had been
so sick for so long,

he built up
a tremendous tolerance.

For him, it was not an overdose.

He had a habit.

That's a value judgment.

Morphine didn't kill him.

I don't know how many times
I have to tell you that.

Are you sure that you
didn't overdo it just a bit,

out of his own best interest?

The drug only made his death

a tiny bit more tolerable.

It's little enough to ask.

Or would you begrudge him that?

Hello, Donna.

Remember us?

Been looking for you
all over Pigtown, up and down.

Clarence said that you moved.

Huh.

[Gharty]
What's your new address?

Um...

I don't know,
it's kind of recent.

You don't know your own address?

I ain't committed it
to memory just yet.

How long have Rodney
and Douglass been in town?

They ain't, far as I know.

[Gharty]
Haven't heard from them?

Uh-uh.

Jeez, we saw them yesterday
down at the Inner Harbor.

- Yeah.
- Oh. Huh.

- You sure it was them?
- Donna.

I don't know, I ain't seen them.

- [Gharty] You ain't seen them?
- No, sir.

Maybe they
ain't heard that I moved yet.

[Gharty] I've really had it!
I am sick of dealing with
brain-dead white trash.

You're stupid to know
when to stop lying. Come on!

I ain't stupid.

No, of course you're not stupid.

[Gharty] You're stupid
if you don't tell us
where we can find your boys.

They ain't hurt nobody.

[dramatic instrumental playing]

They killed
a Jamaican drug dealer.

They shot him 26 times.

- Drug dealer?
- They're dope fiends, Donna.

[Donna] I don't believe that.

I don't believe
they killed nobody, neither.

There's a warrant out
for their arrest,
we have a murder weapon.

The bullets match,

their fingerprints
are all over the gun.

Well, maybe somebody borrowed it
to kill that Jamaican fella.

We found the gun in Doug's truck
out at your brother's house.

Oh, Lord.
Oh, Lord, what am I gonna do?

I had no idea, I swear.

[Donna sighs]

It's gonna be
a lot better for your sons
if you tell us where they are.

We'll pick them up,
and we'll listen to their story.

This is what comes
of living in the city.

Mixing with colors.

[upbeat rock music playing]

[music ends]

Letitia Morrison
was struck by a stray,
large-caliber bullet

fired
from inside the pizza parlor.

Letitia lived around the corner,
she was on her way to school.

What about the other victim,
the store owner?

Forty-seven-year-old Lebanese
immigrant Edward Khoury.

He was getting the previous
night's receipts together
to go to the bank.

They got him to open the door,
shot him half a dozen times,

cleaned out the register.

Witnesses or leads?

Two Black men
were observed fleeing the scene.

Late teens, early twenties,
now, that's all we got so far,

but we're gonna go back,
and canvass the area again.

[Stivers]
Interview Khoury's widow,
see if she has any ideas

on neighborhood kids,
ex-employees.

[Giardello sighs]

You're both
relatively new to Homicide.

There's two kind of murders

that bother even
the most cynical
homicide detective.

That's the murder
of a fellow officer,
and the murder of a child.

This is a 12-year-old girl.

This is
your first murdered child.

Lieutenant, I am not a kid
right out of the academy.

I've seen a lot of
ugliness on the street.

I've worked
sex crimes, narcotics.

This is your murdered child.

This stays with you forever.

I promise you,
you'll never be
able to forget her.

She's gonna come,
and sit on the edge
of your pillow late at night,

and whisper
her name in your ear.

Not if we put it to rest,
not if we find the shooter.

Don't try and pretend
this case isn't different.

It is.

[ominous instrumental playing]

the defense would have to
file a motion to dismiss,

and he'd have to
throw the case out.

[Kellerman] Then the detective
would have no reason to go on

investigating the judge,
would he?

[Gibbons] No, of course,
he'd lose all that
lucrative overtime.

Maybe he could
make it up somewhere else.

[Kellerman]
I don't think he'd have to.

[Gibbons] If I were he,

I wouldn't lose
any sleep over that.

- [recorder clicks]
- Mikey, you taped a judge.

A crooked judge.

When's it gonna stop, huh?
When's it all gonna end?

Didn't you hear that?

He's gonna throw Georgia Rae's
lawsuit in the trash

right after the trial starts.

Are you sure about that?

He'll go through the motions,
he'll make it look good,
and then he'll scuttle the ship.

Are you sure about that?

[sighs] Meldrick,
you offered me a bribe.

Not so you could
prove it, Mikey.

It sounds to me
like you solicited a bribe.

It sounds to me like you
threatened the judge,
that's extortion.

No, this is
the beginning of the end.

Georgia Rae's going down,

and she's dragging
her little pet judge with her.

You know what I think
you ought to do with that tape?

I think you ought to take it,
and throw it in a river.

We're gonna prevail.

Get this behind us,
we'll be back on the job.

We'll Put this monster down
once and for all, you'll see.

Dr. Turner's home care patients
from the past year.

Three of the four
deceased, of course.

Priscilla Owens is currently
under Dr. Turner's care.

You can speak to her directly.

We'd also like
to talk to the families, too.

All the numbers are there.

I'm sorry, I can't help you
with the last name on the list.

Randy Edelstein?

He had no family.

He died alone?

[Henry] He had Dr. Turner.

Yes, he did.

- Good night.
- [Henry] Good night.

- [door clicks closed]
- Well, you know
what they're gonna say.

She is a terrific doctor,
she did a terrific job.

Hope she's my doctor
when I'm dying.

- What about Randy Edelstein?
- What about him?

He had no one
to negotiate with Dr. Turner.

- Negotiate what?
- The terms of his death.

You should go talk
with his social worker.

Frank, what are you saying?

That the families
colluded with Dr. Turner
to euthanize their loved ones?

I'm saying
we speak for the dead, remember?

Now, if Dr. Turner
decided all by her lonesome

to ease Randy Edelstein
into the next life,

then she did commit a murder.

You were
Randy Edelstein's social worker?

Yes.

You worked
with Dr. Turner before?

I'm on staff at St. Jude's.

[Pembleton] You're also
Priscilla Owen's social worker.

I am.

Have you ever had any qualms
about the way Dr. Turner

treated her patients?

No, Dr. Turner's
a first-rate physician.

[Pembleton] Medical
and pharmaceutical records.

Dr. Turner's
deceased home care patients

were all given substantially
higher doses of morphine

than conventional
guidelines recommend,

with a big fat spike
in the dosage,
so to speak, in the end.

I don't have anything
to do with the medication.

But you're part
of the team, yes?

You consult with a doctor?
Give advice?

Surely.

Did you advise
Dr. Turner to give Randy

high doses of morphine
in order to relieve his pain?

No, I left those decisions
entirely to Dr. Turner.

Randy Edelstein had no family?

You were his family, in effect.

- You and Dr. Turner.
- I suppose.

- [Pembleton]
You were his advocate.
- You could put it that way.

Did you advocate ending
Randy Edelstein's
pain and suffering?

I'm sorry?

Did you and Dr. Turner
come to an understanding
at some point

to put Randy out of his misery

just to end things gracefully?

No. No, sir, absolutely not.

I believe you.

That still doesn't mean
you wouldn't have known
what Dr. Turner was doing.

All he had to do was leave
the room at the right moment.

Bite your tongue.

Turn a blind eye.

I got a bad feeling about this.

We'll turn up somebody.

8:30 in the frigging morning,

two banditos shoot up
a pizza parlor,

kill a couple people,

dozens of bystanders
see it all go down,

and nobody knows
where these jamokes are.

It'll come together.

It should,
but what if it doesn't?

Hey, be positive, okay?
We just started.

Somebody's gonna know
where we can find these guys.

[suspenseful
instrumental playing]

- Yes?
- Is Priscilla Owens at home?

Where else would she be?

You're investigating
the hospice?

Your physician
is Dr. Roxanne Turner?

Dr. Turner's patients
seem to hold her in high regard.

Do they?

I don't know
any of her other patients.

Well, they seem to feel,
what, lucky to have her.

Are you asking me

if I feel lucky to be
Dr. Turner's patient?

Yeah, I guess I am.

MS is a degenerative,

progressive,
neurological disease.

I've had it for eight years.

Three months ago, I lost
the last little use

of my legs,
bladder function, et cetera.

I'll spare you the gory details.

I'm 34 years old.

Most days,
I don't feel all that lucky.

It's a nice view.

[sighs] Want it?

Should be available
this time next year.

Ms. Owens,

have you and Dr. Turner
discussed ending your life?

Dr. Turner and I
have an understanding, okay?

I trust her to do what's
best for me when the time comes,

when I'm helpless,
and lying here in my own caca.

Please don't
screw that up for me.

[Roxanne] Detectives.

You checking up on me?

They want to know,
are you gonna snuff me
if I ask you to?

What did you tell them?

She said
you had an understanding.

Excuse me, gentlemen.
I have a patient to treat.

[vocal pop music playing]

[*]

[music fades]

[Pembleton] The families
are protecting Dr. Turner.

- They're in cahoots?
- [Pembleton] In a word.

Mm, Bayliss, you disagree?

- Gee, there's no evidence.
- Well, that's the point.

There are no autopsies done
in any of these cases.

[Bayliss]
There's none necessary.

- [Pembleton]
Their bodies were cremated.
- [Bayliss] Family's prerogative.

Yeah, but Randy Edelstein
didn't have a family.

Dr. Turner decided for him
to prevent an exhumation
and an autopsy.

What about his social worker?

Well, he knows,
and he doesn't know.

- His ass is covered, that's it.
- [Bayliss] You know something?

You're making an argument
that's based on a total
lack of evidence.

That's negative proof.

What about Robinson?

Well, the judge ruled
in favor of Mrs. Wells,
there will be an autopsy.

You see,
I don't know what that'll prove,

because she never concealed
the use of the morphine.

All she's gonna
get is a reprimand

from the State
Medical Association.

It'll be a slap on the wrist.

Invite Dr. Turner in
for a casual conversation.

Treat her with kid gloves.

And if she declines?

A woman decline
an invitation from you, Frank?

- Celebrating?
- I guess.

Yeah, not much to celebrate.

A couple of bottom feeders
who whacked a third.

It's not your fault
that modern criminals
lack panache.

Oh, it's not their
lack of style that bothers me.

It's ours, we lied.

We told them
that we had the murder weapon.

- We do.
- Inadmissible.

We also told them
that we would jam up their uncle
and that we had a warrant.

We could've gotten a warrant.

I don't see the problem.

It was too easy.
They don't know anything.

It's like
they're from another planet.

- Parallel universe.
- Exactly.

That one that doesn't
have a constitution
and a Bill of Rights.

We tell a joke
on ourselves back home?

We're from the kind
of place people think
the moonwalk was fake,

and pro wrestling is real.

[all laughing]

What a benighted country
we live in where more people

believe in angels and UFOs
and past life regressions

than evolution.

I believe in angels.

I believe in UFOs
and alien abductions.

I've always been a little
iffy on evolution myself.

How can you say that
when 99% of your DNA
is the same as a chimpanzee?

Well, vive la différence.

[Munch] Ballard, come here.
Let me show you my new tattoo.

[upbeat pop music
playing over speakers]

For me?

Stuart.

It's not a big deal.
It's nothing.

What's the occasion?

No, no, no. There's no occasion.

It's just--

Don't--
don't open it here, okay?

I'm intrigued.

Can't wait.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

[chuckles]

[*]

- [knocking on door]
- [Giardello] Come in.

Hey, we caught a break in
the Letitia Morrison shooting.

Yeah, they picked up
Tiny Adamson on a traffic stop.

He had Edward Khoury's
ATM card in his pocket,

semi-automatic
in the glove compartment,
and blood on his shoes.

- Good work.
- [Falsone] We got lucky.

If Letitia Morrison's name
comes up on The Board in black,
come back, and see me.

I'll take you both
out for a drink.

[Giardello taps on shoulder]

[Bayliss] Oh, really?

Frank, I--

- Where you going?
- Home. Home.

I'm not in this.

- [Roxanne] Good night, Bayliss.
- Vaya con Dios, Doctor.

- [door bangs closed]
- Do I need a lawyer?

I don't know,
did Randy Edelstein
need a lawyer?

Sonia Moore? Ellie McGreevey?

Priscilla Owens?

- No, they didn't.
- Right.

Because they had you.

Doc, are you familiar
with the concept
of the seamless garment?

It's a pacifist
Catholic doctrine.

I work at St. Jude's, remember,

life is a seamless garment,
sacred from conception to death.

No abortion, no murder,
no suicide, no euthanasia.

No nuclear war.
No capital punishment.

Do you believe
in the seamless garment of life?

I'd like to.

It's logical, consistent.

No moral,
metaphysical contradictions.

What are you,
a homicide detective

that doesn't believe
in capital punishment?

Well, feelings are one thing,
reality is another.

I'm a cop, I have to
embrace contradictions.

Capital punishment is wrong.

And necessary.

See, I don't let
doctrine stand between
me and my patients, either.

But I don't murder
any of my patients.

Fine.

I accept that.

- You do?
- Mm-hmm.

I know how slippery
definition can be.

Semantics.

The more sophisticated the mind,
the slicker the pavement.

I think you really believe

what you do is not murder.

No, that ain't
nearly good enough,
and please do not patronize me.

Okay, fine, fine.
Forget about the word "murder."

I no longer
suspect you of murder,
I absolve you of that.

I don't need absolution.

Oh, come on, Doc.
We all need absolution.

You speak for yourself.

I hope you realize
you're free to go at any time.

You're not under arrest.
You're not a suspect.

Not for anything
I could charge you with

under the laws
of the great state of Maryland.

What would you
charge me with if you could?

I don't know.

How about...

playing God?

God doesn't make house calls.

- We do. You and me.
- I don't play God.

That's exactly
what you do every day.

You decide
who's innocent and who's guilty.

You say,
"Okay, I'm gonna let you go,

but you, I'm gonna get you."

"I'm gonna get you."

[over speaker]
"I'm gonna get you."

I avenge the dead.

Is that why I'm here?

Because you think you need
to speak for my patients?

Somebody's got to.

Who the hell are you?

You didn't hold their hands
when they were screaming
and hollering all night long.

You didn't mop up any mucus
or diarrhea or their vomit.

You didn't clean the pus
out of anybody's sores

or throw your body across theirs
to keep them in the bed

when they were thrashing around
in their death throes

with bile and blood
gushing from every orifice!

You didn't comfort
their families

who will never,
ever get over their loss.

Detective, how dare you presume
to speak for my patients?

They didn't have you then,
and they sure as hell
don't need you now.

I am a doctor.
That means that I help people.

I don't just keep them alive
for no good reason.

Everybody says
you're a great doctor.

You care for your patients.
You love them, even.

But you can't bear it, can you?

It all takes too damn long.

God or nature,
whatever you want to call it.

Can't just let them die.
So you deliver them, right?

Just like you
used to deliver babies.

There are no dead people
on my conscience,
can you understand that?

Can you say the same thing?

[sighs] I used to have a friend.

I have a friend.

She started
having these headaches.

Migraines.

So I had lunch with her
on the day she was scheduled
to go in for her MRI.

She was terrified.

You know, thought it was

MS, cerebral palsy.

- What was it?
- Brain tumor.

They operated.

They got most of it,
but not all.

Surgeons left just a little.
Got a little lax.

Did she die?

Still alive.

But she's not the same.

Not the same person.

She used to be a singer.

Carla can't sing no more.

[sighs] She knows you
when she sees you.

But once you walk out her room,
forget you were even there.

She's living now with her daddy.
He's widowed and retired.

What do you suppose
is going to happen to Carla
when her daddy dies?

I ain't seen her since
we had that lunch together.

No, no, no,
that's not true, it's not true.

I saw her once at the hospital
after the operation.

When everybody was hopeful
that she would be
who she was again.

The same person.

It's funny.

It's funny.
I forget about that visit.

[laughs wryly]

I had a stroke last year.

My-- my memories are a little

perforated around the edges.

You had a stroke,
and you're still
drinking coffee?

Mm-hmm, I used to
listen to the doctors.

I used to take their advice,
but I don't anymore.

Because what do they know?

I mean,
what do they really know?

That's what this is about.

You had a stroke,
and you're pissed.

You resent your doctors,
because you think

they have the power
of life and death over you.

So you're going to
prove them wrong,

even if it means
killing yourself.

Then you blame
some arrogant neurosurgeon

for ruining your friend's life,

because you feel guilty
for abandoning her,

and I'm paying for all of this?

Ah, don't absolve me, Detective.
Absolve yourself.

Arthur Robinson's
going to be autopsied,

and Priscilla Owens
is going to be autopsied
when she dies.

And the one after that,
and the one after that,

and every one
of your patients who dies
are going to be all over you.

I'm putting you
out of the God business.

I am not going to
stop doing what I do,

because you hate God
and doctors and yourself.

You won't stop,

I'm going to make you stop.

Okay, say I stop,
say you stop me.

Say I quit treating
my patients the way I see fit.

Let me tell you something.

All of their pain
and misery and humiliation

will be on your head.

I can take the weight.

Can you?

Sleep well, Doc.

I always do.

[inhales in frustration]

You know, I expected
something a little more formal.

Well, this is a temporary place.

They're raising money
for a new building.

Who's eligible for this thing?

Baltimore children,
18 and under,
who've died from violence.

They're going to
need to build a stadium.

[ominous instrumental playing]

[rain pattering]

[doorbell rings]

[lock clicks]

Yes, sir.

- Mr. Kaufman?
- Yeah.

- I'm Frank Pembleton.
- Hi.

I'm a friend of your daughter's.

Is she home or is that--

Sweet pea!

Somebody here to see you.

Hey, Carla.

[sentimental
instrumental playing]

Frank.

- Yeah. Hey!
- Oh, hi.

[*]

[theme song playing]