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♪ ♪
♪ Hey, everyone ♪
♪ Gotta keep on marching on ♪
♪ Well, hey, hey, hey, everyone ♪
♪ Gotta keep on marching on and on and on... ♪
♪ ♪
♪ NCIS:New Orleans 2x02 ♪ Shadow Unit Original Air Date on September 29, 2015
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ How, how, how, how ♪
♪ Hey, hey ♪
♪ You gotta come on. ♪
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
Smooth motions.
Keep a rhythm.
Get Pride bought a bar,
working out a new phase in his life;
I also get chipping in before work,
help him set the place up-- but what I don't get
is why I'm the only one laboring.
Uh, I'm in recovery.
Remember? 'Cause Pride shot me?
You don't watch it, I'm gonna shoot you next.
So, uh, what's your excuse, Merri?
I know it may look like I'm slacking,
but we've got you doing advanced field training.
Testing my carpentry skills?
Nope. Multitasking.
If I tell you I went to the MCRD
to see the RTB to meet the SDI...
You'd go to the Marine Corps Depot
to the Recruit Training Battalion
to see the Senior Drill Instructor.
Marine captain enters a Navy captain's berth
on a ship. Who salutes first?
Typically, Marine salutes sailor--
Navy captain has rank-- but in this case,
no one salutes...
because they're indoors.
Poof.
Goat locker.
What is it?
The, uh...
goat locker...
is where you store...
your goats.
Chief petty officer's galley
and sleeping area
on a ship.
Terminology may not matter in the ATF,
but it's the lifeblood of the Navy.
I get it.
For instance, uh,
what's the term for this new lady
you've been seeing? I know a lot of ladies.
Uh, you brought in your nice jacket yesterday.
The Commander's Palace jacket.
Oh. That's his big third-date move.
Well, the move was clearly successful,
because, um...
I can still smell her perfume.
She's classy.
Creed Royal. She's a professional.
Doctor? Lawyer.
Banker, if you must know.
Mm. - Mm. And it was a first date.
Beer and crawfish don't work on these white-collar types.
Oh. And as much as I'm enjoying
you snooping into my personal life,
it's a text from King.
Body at Monteleone.
Get our game face on.
Victim's name was Jonah Penn.
Couple of conventioneers spotted him
on his balcony this morning, thought he was passed out.
Called hotel security. Place is a mess.
Penn some kind of sailor on leave?
Blogger from Pittsburgh.
Why call us?
Follow me.
Top secret Navy documents-- the real deal.
Or at least they were. Gone now.
Whoa. What's a blogger
from Pittsburgh doing with Navy documents?
I'll call Intel, get into it.
Maintenance had to break in this morning.
According to hotel records...
Penn's key card was the only one
used to enter this room
in the last couple of days.
Door was bolted from the inside.
No other access point to the room.
How'd the suspect get in?
NOPD found traces of high-density nylon rope on the roof.
That joker rappelled down?
It would explain
the vertical trajectory of the entry wounds.
He was shot three times from above.
Some ninja moves! No one saw?
Avoided every witness and surveillance camera
in the hotel.
Three shots to the chest.
Tight grouping-- looks professional.
Maybe professional; far from impersonal.
The killer cut out Penn's tongue, postmortem...
...placed it in his palm.
I'll bet you never saw a tongue-ectomy in ATF.
There's got to be some Intel missing,
'cause I got a... an empty top secret jacket.
I appreciate that.
I appreciate that, Admiral.
'Cause I have a lot of questions.
Making house calls now?
Yeah, I had to come see you right away.
I know your dead guy, Jonah Penn.
What? Well, not know in the
conventional sense of having a relationship
or personal interaction or any sort of history.
What other sense is there?
Well, we were virtual acquaintances.
In the Skep-Con community.
It's skeptics and conspiracy theorists.
Penn was a superstar.
He exposed corruption and cover-ups
all over the government. You were in contact with him?
Well, no, but he blogged that he was going on the road for some big story.
He bragged that he was gonna blow the lid off of...
the “twisted psyche of the American military machine.”
He had a flair for the dramatic.
You're thinking this story had something to do with the Navy?
Well... So, I ran ballistics
on the slugs that Loretta pulled from Penn's body.
Nine-millimeter, 147-grain
NATO rounds.
Subsonic, laced with depleted uranium.
Sound-suppressing, armor-piercing.
Military. I traced the bullets
back to a batch that the Navy requisitioned
for a special mission code-named Operation Sawback.
What's Operation Sawback?
I have no idea.
It's compartmented way above my clearance-- which is not
very high, and actually I've been meaning to talk
to you about that. Sebastian.
But I did find out the name
of the unit involved.
Shadow Unit.
Navy SEALs.
Your murderer is among
one of the best-trained killers in the world.
Jonah Penn was murdered with bullets
designated for a Navy SEAL team--
Shadow Unit-- in a mission called Sawback.
There's a good chance
our suspect is a SEAL.
Got to be careful. And move fast.
Navy better cooperate. They won't even admit documents are missing.
What more do we know about our reporter, Penn?
Freelance journalist in town working on his story.
Got any line on his story? He was tight-lipped.
Protecting his “get.” Family and friends didn't even know
he was in New Orleans. What'd you get off Penn's laptop?
Nothing. Wiped clean.
Wrong, wrong. So damn wrong.
I assure you, no one wiped anything clean.
That's-that's not even a thing.
There's not even an e-mail on this laptop.
Yeah, well, we live in the age of the NSA.
We got eavesdropping,
anonymous hackers...
let's face it, people like me
who sneak on your computer without you even knowing.
So he changed his computer out?
As much as he changes his T-shirts.
He keeps his files in a cloud.
Can you retrieve anything?
I'm a little hurt you even doubt it.
Loretta.
You and me. Chris, SEAL team
Shadow Unit is stationed out of Stennis Space Center.
Take Percy.
You got it, King.
So, about SEALs.
Sea, Air, Land. Already know.
That's about as much as they'll let you know.
They don't talk easy and they don't trust outsiders.
Look...
I spent my entire career
earning the trust of gunrunners and biker gangs.
I got my ways.
SEALs operate at a higher level of distrust.
Sort of like Fight Club. Oh, like,
“First rule of SEALs, don't talk about SEALs”?
I'm just preparing you.
It's gonna take a little more than your “way”"
to open 'em up.
War... War...
Eagle! Hey! Eagle! Hey!
Why didn't you tell me
the newbie's a fellow Tiger?
I'm just finding out about it myself.
He's from 'Bama. Roll Tide.
You know, my time at Auburn really defined my character.
Made me who I am today.
So, Operation Sawback?
Happy to read you in.
Especially since it's declassified.
And since you're a fellow Tiger,
I can save you the trouble of reading a 3,000-page file.
Appreciate that.
First off, it wasn't our op.
CIA mission.
They oversaw; we provided support.
Sawback was strictly humanitarian.
There we go.
Ejército Del Pueblo.
Army of the People.
Paramilitary group in Bolivia, a place called San Martel.
Muscle for the drug lords.
Rooting out resistance
and terrorize the locals. Sent in
a small team of SEALs, Shadow Unit.
Dropped in, protected the locals,
dismantled the PA-- rousing success.
If it was such a success, why was Jonah Penn
so interested in it?
Penn was a bottom-feeder, always looking
for negative spin. Bad blood?
I spend my days surrounded by the enemy in hostile territory.
It takes more than bad press to hurt my feelings.
There's a big old “but” coming. But...
there's not a single sailor or Marine
whose safety wasn't compromised by Penn
and the lies he printed over the years.
Which could explain why three rounds of ammo
slated for Sawback ended up in Penn's chest.
Are you suggesting one of my men was involved?
I'm suggesting
that you give us the identity of every member of Shadow Unit
and their last known whereabouts.
The methodology of this murder is cold, professional.
Removal of the victim's tongue was surgical.
Killer took care,
like he'd practiced this before.
What can you tell us about the knife?
Sharp. Non-serrated. That's about all.
However,
judging by the inflammation of Mr. Penn's stomach lining,
I can say that he suffered from ulcers.
There was scar tissue
and several gastrinoma.
Someone who suffers
from this severe a condition
would be prescribed a very bland diet.
Yet this is what I found in his stomach.
Fatty beef, chorizo sausage, lard,
locoto peppers.
South American food.
Bolivian, to be exact.
Operation Sawback took place in Bolivia.
Sebastian pulled Mr. Penn's
room service charges. Oatmeal,
grilled salmon, skinless chicken.
He was not eating spicy at the hotel.
Where he got the food could lead us
to what track he was on for his story.
So I count
three straight-up Bolivian places.
I'll e-mail you the list.
Thanks. Personal favor?
These have been mailed to me anonymously.
Does that make you the Jackal?
Nickname in high school. Long story.
Mine was Mr. Butternut.
Also... long story.
Looks like you had fun back then.
Yeah, only I wasn't in
the original version of these photos.
I think someone altered them.
Well, the inpainting is perfect.
Seam carving, too.
Are you...
sure this isn't you?
These are all my sister's friends.
The one who passed away.
They added me in her place, after she died.
Is there any way you can track where these came from?
Yeah. No, I'm-I'm happy to take a look.
Thank you. Oh, actually, you know what,
I also have a bit of a favor.
Shoot.
I heard what the SEALs said about Penn,
about how he falsified sources
and it got him fired, but that's not the truth.
Penn quit the newspaper when they tried to edit a story
that he was writing. He had integrity.
Penn was important to you.
Yeah, a while ago, he-he wrote about these contractors in Iraq
who were taking kickbacks. Took him two years to
singlehandedly trace the scandal back to several congressmen.
He saw a conspiracy when everyone else turned away.
Penn had a voice.
Let's find out what he wanted to say.
This man-- his name is Penn? I don't know,
maybe he came in, maybe not, we have a lot of customers.
Yeah, well,
not many came in for lunch three days in a row this week.
He must have liked my cooking. Your name's Edgar Baco.
This is your place. I spoke with two of your waitresses,
they both confirmed that Penn
came in to see you.
And now he's dead.
Soon I will be, too.
Because... death is following me
all the way from San Martel, Bolivia.
That why Penn came to see you?
He was curious about the tragedy of San Martel.
You are, too?
I know about what the People's Army did to your town.
Well, the PA demanded money for protection from the cartels.
The very men they worked for.
Our lives were worthless.
Until the U.S. military intervened.
Yes, the Americans came.
They told us we had nothing left to worry about.
The PA would be stopped.
That turned out to be a lie.
A man came early in the morning.
He rounded up seven of our leaders
and accused them of cooperating with the enemy.
He shot them, cut out their tongues.
One of the People's Army.
No.
He was one of yours.
Sent to protect us.
The rumor was that the PA paid him off.
To send a message.
To remind us that we would never be safe again.
I-I left, I... came here.
Where good people like you
are still outraged by the savagery of the world.
Is there anyone else who can confirm your story?
Sí.
Travis Dalton.
Speak to him.
He'll tell you.
I've been managing director of The Westmar Relief Group
now for, uh, about three years.
We provide food, medicine, support
to Latin Americans hardest hit by war and poverty.
People like Edgar Baco?
We brought Edgar back from Bolivia.
Helped set him up his restaurant.
The American dream.
After San Martel?
The Navy send you?
Nobody sends me, Mr. Dalton.
I'm here investigating the murder of Jonah Penn.
Penn was working on a story.
We think he was killed
because what he was writing about
had to do with a military operation in San Martel.
Well, some stories are just too dangerous to tell.
Like the execution of seven men?
By someone on your people's payroll.
You got proof of that?
Here's your proof.
It's what Jonah Penn was writing about.
There.
The money shot.
Check the insignia.
SEALs.
You show these photos to the Navy? I just got 'em.
From Jonah Penn.
He brought these to me last week,
asked me to tell him what I saw.
And where did Penn get the photos?
Wouldn't tell me.
And even if he did, I wouldn't tell you.
Talking about this...
could make me
your killer's next victim.
Now, if what Baco and Dalton say is true,
we're not just investigating a murder anymore.
Yeah, it's a war crime.
No, go ahead and respond.
Shouldn't let the banker girl wait.
She's a banker lady. And I'm good.
“Good” like she gets a second date
or “good” like it's over? Can we focus here?
- I don't know, can we? - Okay,
of the six active duty SEALs
billeted to Shadow Unit, four are deployed overseas.
One has been in wilderness
survival training for the past 72 hours.
And the last member? Petty Officer
Wyatt Granier. Recently put into treatment for showing
signs of depression and instability.
Lives on the Westbank. Got a bolo out. Let's find him.
The cellular customer you are trying to reach
is unavailable. Please leave a message after the beep.
Hey, it's me.
Have you heard from Penn?
'Cause I'm supposed to meet him and he's still not here.
I'm freaked.
I'm out of here.
NOPD patrol spotted the car a few hours ago.
Engine's still on,
who knows how long. Loretta?
Granier was shot from behind.
The same tight grouping of the wounds.
The same surgical care
with the postmortem
removal of the tongue.
And again...
the killer takes the term
“hold your tongue” literally.
Guessing when you pull the slugs out of the dash,
the bullets'll match the ones used to kill Penn.
It's an elaborate choreography.
It takes time and consideration.
Someone murdered Penn
to stop him from writing about Operation Sawback.
Cut out his tongue as a warning.
Granier was part of Sawback.
You think he was
cooperating with Penn's story
and that's what got him killed the same way?
Hey, found this cell nearby.
Could be Granier's, but someone took the SIM card.
NOPD canvassed the area,
pulled surveillance video. No sign of the suspect.
Probably ninja'd his way out of this one, too.
Climbed a wall, jumped the roof.
Maybe's he's got the cloak of invisibility.
We know this much--
he can't levitate. Shoe scuffs.
Must have been riding in the trunk,
waiting for the right moment.
Not easy to sneak up on a SEAL.
Suspect had access
to the back seat through the trunk.
In and out without a trace.
Actually, guys, this time...
he left something behind.
Got a DNA hit
on the hair. It belongs
to Chief Petty Officer Ryan Jansen,
another Navy SEAL in Shadow Unit.
Thought he was already accounted for.
Survival training, Pearl River.
That's what the SEALs thought, too.
Turns out Jansen was on solo survival training.
Commander Salter radioed him
to return to base, got no response.
He could have slipped away, no one would have even noticed.
Plenty of time to come back here, kill Penn and Granier.
Aw, yeah! Don't mind me,
I had to resupply.
Check it out.
I got my kale, my carrots, my B3, my agave.
I got my
bacon chili cheeseburger deluxe.
That's my Triple P cranial laxative.
Any closer to getting Penn's digital files?
Like I told you--
Penn's a guy who's written about the NSA,
the FBI, the IRS and all other alphabet agencies that
make men tremble. So you can't get in.
Dude, his encryptions got encryptions.
But once that agave and this saturated fat
lubricates the thinkanator-- oh, I'll get there.
I always do.
Excuse you.
Thank you.
Back to Jansen, what do we know?
Highly decorated. Spent a year at NAB
Coronado teaching knife combat, but
he's a five-tool player. Two Silver Stars
for bravery in Afghanistan,
married his high school sweetheart,
- teaches Sunday school. - Whoa, what does that mean?
My Sunday school teacher was terrifying.
Look, we need to bring Jansen in before anyone else gets hurt.
I'll reach out to Edgar Baco and Travis Dalton.
They were both sources of Penn's story,
could be in danger.
Brody, you're with me. Let's go learn things
about the man behind the SEAL.
I've known my husband since we were 14 years old.
The moment I laid eyes on him,
I knew he would be the best man
I'd ever meet.
Now you're telling me he's some kind of criminal?
Do you know where he is, Mrs. Jansen?
I never know where Ryan is.
My husband's job
is classified.
Found this in a drawer.
He left it for a reason.
So we couldn't track him.
Checked the call log. Last one is from Granier.
Wyatt Granier?
They're friends.
You should ask Wyatt about Ryan. He'll tell you.
Wyatt Granier was murdered.
Listen, we understand you're trying to protect your husband,
but something is wrong here. You see this, yes?
What are you suggesting he did?
We're just looking for the truth.
We get that by finding Ryan.
If you know of anything, please,
before Ryan or anyone else gets hurt.
I never know where Ryan is when he's deployed.
He could be gone for weeks, months.
But whenever he goes away, he sends me one of these.
They're all blank.
A simple way to tell me he's okay.
This one came this morning.
Kisatchie National Park.
Park ranger said Jansen came in yesterday,
got supplies, and headed north.
Well, what's north?
Woods. Great...
Mother Nature and I aren't exactly on speaking terms.
Oh, don't worry, City Mouse.
I'll be glad to make introductions.
Got ballistics back on the slugs you pulled
from Petty Officer Granier's chest.
Nine millimeter, subsonic.
Same rounds that killed Penn.
Fired from the same weapon. Not surprising.
Anything else?
Come on. Out with it.
Why does the system always win?
You know?
I mean, this-this Skep-Con thing,
it's not an act. I-I really believe
that there's a deeper meaning in the world,
even if it's menacing,
that-that people can have an effect,
you know, reveal the truth.
I mean, we-we need skeptics,
people willing to dig deeper.
People like Penn.
Like you.
I will look at Petty Officer Granier again,
see what else I find.
Meantime, I'll put
the photos from San Martel up
on the secure server.
Pick up where Penn left off.
Go.
Who's Dave?
Not a banker, I'll tell you that.
Lady's got her secrets, huh? A few.
More than a few, I've learned.
I went poking.
You didn't go to Auburn. You went to Tulane.
Yeah, but Tulane wouldn't get me an in
with the Navy SEAL commander.
Also wouldn't get a rise out of you, so...
So, if you got secrets,
how come you givin' me a hard time about who I date?
Look...
I'm just trying to make sure you're taking care of yourself.
That mermaid of yours was special,
and...
I know what it's like to lose someone.
She's got a name. Savannah.
And you don't know anything about it. Stop.
Oh, it's okay for you to poke back, but...
No, I mean stop the truck.
I saw tire tracks back there
veering off the road.
License plate matches Jansen's.
Chief Jansen. Hands where we can see 'em.
We're NCIS. You're coming with us.
On your knees.
I can't let this happen.
Why?
'Cause you're innocent?
Hardly.
Got a fugitive loose in Kisatchie National Park.
He's a Navy SEAL wanted in connection
with multiple murders. Gonna need every deputy you can spare.
No. No, Christopher, hold tight until the cavalry arrives.
Got park rangers and marshals on the way.
Jansen got a head start. We wait, he disappears.
You're a good hunter, Chris, but you're not
100% right now, and Jansen's in his element.
We already went a few rounds with him, King.
We know what we're up against, all right?
King, tell me there's a better chance of catching Jansen.
Just be careful. Of course.
We don't want to mangle up the new girl
on her first big manhunt.
Good news is, he didn't try to kill us,
which I guess is your job.
When you get back,
I'll let you shoot me so we're even.
I'll look forward to it.
Mangled, huh?
State police are sending 30 troopers now.
Won't be enough.
No matter how many men you send. Mrs. Jansen,
you should be at home.
I can't sit around anymore.
Not with strangers at my house.
They're MPs.
Waiting to catch my husband.
Which is a waste of time.
He's not coming back. Not voluntarily.
Not at all.
Heard those MPs talking at my house,
calling my husband a mass murderer.
He won't stand for that.
And I don't blame him.
Mrs. Jansen, that's not what... You don't understand.
Ryan believes in honor.
To a fault.
He won't be dragged in on these ridiculous accusations.
He'll die first.
Please,
don't let my husband get killed out there.
While you were hunting SEALs,
I reexamined Petty Officer Granier.
I found these skin cells on his wrist.
I assumed they were his,
but analyzed them just to make sure.
They're not Granier's.
Could be the killer's. You get DNA?
There's no match in CODIS, no match to Jansen.
So Jansen didn't kill Granier.
Which means he likely... didn't kill Penn.
Oh, my gosh, guys, you're never gonna believe this.
All right. Slowing down.
Breathing. Pausing.
Explaining.
The photos of the massacre are faked.
- Faked? - You're sure?
Positive. Photography's become
a recent interest of mine, and I had a bit of an insight.
So I blew up the photo to see if I could make out any details,
and when I did... Well, here, look--
tell me what you see here.
Image is distorted. Right, it's called
aberration-- it's the failure of the lens
to produce a true image.
The way the light hits, everything's just blurry.
Everything except...
our Navy SEAL. Look at this--
you can make out all the details of his insignia,
of his weapon...
He was clearly placed in
- after the fact. - Making it seem
as if a SEAL was responsible.
Yeah. I bet you anything that Penn realized
that this photo was fake... and he got killed
pursuing whatever it is that really happened in San Martel.
I'm gonna to go help Patton get into Penn's files.
What the hell is Jansen up to?
You know, you're wrong.
About me not getting it.
I've had loss.
Maybe not what happened to you, but...
let's just say there was someone special, and...
Shh!
Really? I'm opening up.
Broken branch.
Jansen knows better than to leave a mark like that.
Yeah, he planted it.
And every other sign we've seen.
He's tracking us.
And that's good how?
We're still not dead,
and he's still not gone.
Like I need help.
Patton, you've been trying to get into Penn's cloud
for, like, two days. Dude was deeply paranoid.
I'm talking black-helicopter- multipliled-by-Area 51 paranoid.
He was a kook. Whoa, hold on, I resemble that remark.
Yeah, you do-- that's why I borrowed your Skep-Kook profile.
Skep-Con, okay?
Wait, you stole my identity?
Appropriated, thank you very much. And it paid off.
Turns out Penn was preparing
for the day he might die over a story.
He had a back door into his files.
Secret encryption key to gain entry.
Penn left pieces of the key with various far-flung freaks.
Just got access.
Downloading now.
Same photos,
but they haven't been doctored.
Wait, what's happening?
The files are disappearing.
Someone's hacking in. They piggypacked
onto your session. I'll set up
a firewall, try to download
what hasn't been deleted yet.
Can you track the attack?
I'm tracing it now.
Nobody messes with Patton Plame
in his own house. I'm calling Pride.
We're heading north like you told us.
We need this hacker's exact address.
Working on it. Getting a bead on the IP's now.
Hurry up, I'm losing the battle here. Don't stress me out.
Don't stress you out? I'm the only thing
standing between some hacker and all of Penn's files.
We already lost 20%.
- Focus, guys. - I'm trying.
This guy is good. Yeah, he's tearing down
every firewall I put up like it's made out of rice paper.
40% of the files are gone now. I know, I know!
I'm zooming in on an address.
50% gone. I need you to head
towards Bayou Road.
- Address. - Hold on.
70%. Would you stop saying percent?
Got it--
2523 Bayou Road. Yes!
Hands up!
Get away from the computer. Get your hands up now!
It's all right.
We're on the same side.
Nice to see you again, Agent Pride.
I'm CIA.
Looked into your background, parts that aren't classified.
Former Army Ranger. Masters from MIT.
Guess I'm an overachiever.
With a particular set of skills.
Expert climber.
Means you could rappel down a building.
Computer specialist.
Means you can hack.
And the organization Westmar Relief Group.
CIA set it up as a front.
Put you in charge of Operation Sawback.
You were sent down to Bolivia to
fight the People's Army.
To look after the locals.
But for some reason,
you became part of the problem.
Wasn't even in country when that massacre occurred.
But you covered it up.
Fascinating story.
Massacre in San Martel. Seven men dead.
Tongues cut out.
Real photo. Fake photo.
The SEAL was put in later.
By you. We found evidence
on your hard drive that you doctored these.
Care to explain?
Well, I'd love to, but...
it's compartmented.
In other words, you'd tell us, but then you'd have to kill us.
Just like Jonah Penn...
Petty Officer Granier?
Both murdered because of San Martel.
Tongues cut out because they knew too much.
Message to the world. Message to us as well.
Make all signs point to Jansen.
And just to be sure...
he put a strand of Jansen's hair
in Granier's trunk.
Lot of big talk.
No proof.
We have skin cells
from the man who killed Granier.
Soon as we get your DNA back,
we'll make a match
and your time will be up.
Speaking of time...
I haven't checked in with my colleagues at CIA
since 9:00 a.m.
It'll take 'em a couple of hours to realize
I'm in your custody.
Then our lawyers will call yours,
remind them of the CIA mandate for secrecy.
Until then...
Dalton is right.
CIA will whisk him away if we don't get Jansen to talk.
We got to find him first,
figure out if he's a witness or an accomplice.
Oh, I got it. I so got it.
So I took a deeper look at those undoctored photos
from the massacre. Which, by the way--
taken with top-notch equipment. I mean,
these contrast on these things...
Regardless, I've been studying them up close,
and I'm 99% sure I can identify the person
responsible for the massacre in Bolivia.
Did you get an angle on the killer's face?
No, something better. I-I got a fingerprint.
From a photograph?
Yeah, first I found this bloody thumbprint on the neck.
Here I just zoomed in and I ran it through AFIS.
Get a hit? Yeah, it's coming up now.
There it is.
There's the guy responsible.
Christopher.
Chief Petty Officer Ryan Jansen!
Come out!
We need to talk!
It's safe for you now!
We know that you didn't kill Penn!
Or Granier!
We just don't know why you're running!
How do I know you weren't sent to kill me?
If that was the case, you'd be dead by now.
Give it your best shot.
Suicide by cop?
Is that what you want?
Just do what you're gonna do already.
Okay.
How about let's talk.
You, too, Percy. No way.
Look, I'm your training agent.
He's still got a gun. There's nothing in the manual
about disarming myself in front of an armed fugitive.
This isn't in the manual.
Like I said, Jansen,
we know you didn't kill Penn or Granier.
And there's proof exonerating you
from the massacre at San Martel.
Doesn't mean I'm not guilty.
Operation Sawback.
Mission was protect the locals, dismantle the PA.
Something happened. The massacre.
Men who were cooperating with us brutally executed.
The next day Granier and I are pulled for an extraction op.
Who were you extracting?
Some local-- they said if we left him behind
that he'd get killed like the rest,
so we got him to safety.
Well, mission accomplished.
Yeah. Then last week, Penn calls.
He's got sources in Bolivia.
Found out who we really extracted.
El Hacha.
Leader of the People's Army.
He killed those men in San Martel.
Who ordered you to extract?
A guy named Dalton? CIA?
Yeah. Spook. I don't know the name.
Well, we got the guy.
You come with us, you can identify him.
And then what?
Then I just live the rest of my life
knowing that I freed a mass murderer?
Brought him to this county?
How do I deal with that?
Explain that to Emily?
So you want to restore your honor?
You can do that.
Just come in with us
and bring El Hacha to justice.
All you have to do
is drop your weapon.
Hey, hey. Remember me?
Okay. I got it.
Bad temper you've got there, Baco.
My guess is it's gotten you into trouble
in the past. San Martel, for instance?
The seven men you killed?
Right, El Hacha?
Curious, what's the going rate
to bribe a CIA operative these days, huh?
Dalton forced me. I wanted none of it.
He made me kill those men. It was all him.
That's what Dalton's just told the U.S. Attorney about you.
Gonna be fun watching you two eat each other alive.
That leaves one more thing to do.
What's that?
Better than a postcard.
♪ Jan lays down and wrestles in her sleep ♪
You all right?
Hey, Em.
♪ An old friend calls and tells us where to meet ♪
♪ Her plane takes off from Baltimore ♪
♪ And touches down on Bourbon Street ♪
♪ Ooh... ooh... ♪
♪ Ooh... ♪
♪ We sit outside and argue all night long ♪
Smooth motions, remember?
Keep a rhythm.
Appreciate you...
wantin' to talk about, you know,
the one you lost.
♪ And happy with her full-time job... ♪
Okay.
And as for Sheila,
the banker lady,
she's a goof.
Makes me laugh.
Well, laughing is good.
It is for me, now.
Well, for the record,
you know, you make me laugh.
But just 'cause of your looks. Ha, ha.
Spoke to the U.S. attorney.
CIA is wiping their hands clean of Dalton.
He's going away for a long time.
What'd you bring us, King? Well,
shrimp po'boy for you. Nice.
And me. Veggie deluxe for Sonja.
Thank you.
Hey.
That bar looks nice.
Yeah, a little elbow grease.
Seriously?
♪ If I die before I learn to speak ♪
♪ Can money pay for all the days I lived awake ♪
♪ But half asleep? ♪
Hey.
That Penn's article?
Yeah, I was able to get it online.
We've already got thousands of hits.
Even in death, man has a voice.
Oh. About your photos.
Uh, I'm still workin' on 'em, but, uh, I'll get there.
Well, after what you did for Penn, I have no doubt.
Thanks, Sebastian. Yeah.
♪ ♪
Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Louisiana anymore.
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
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