All language subtitles for Chicago.Justice.S01E06.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb_track3_eng

.

- What'd she say?
- It's complicated.

- I know you.
You didn't talk to her.

- Six years together,
she's just not gonna

give me the thumbs up
to move on.

I'm strategizing.

- Me too.

- Where are you going?

- It's complicated.

- Well, there's not
much to tell.

My secretary and I were sitting
there, preparing for a meeting

and then--no, not now--and then
she goes to the bathroom

and then all of the sudden,
the water just from above--

- Lemont's kind of
a sleepy town.

This is my first dead body.

- We can ship a couple of our
overflow up here if you want.

- I'm in charge.
Captain Fogarty.

- Oh, Nagel, Dawson.
Thanks for calling.

- Under the circumstances,
I figure this is your ballpark.

Manager said that he made
the reservation online.

He never saw the man before.

- Not even when he checked in?
- Didn't have to.

Keycard on the door,
changes for every new customer.

Wallet was in his pocket.

- Any security footage?
- People who come here

don't really want
a record of it.

- In here?

- Yeah, I'd say he's dead.

- Mm-hmm.

- Here.

Excuse me?

- I figured I could
learn something.

Slit wrists.
Pretty obvious suicide.

- Nope. Nothing.

Hot water. Whoever did this
wanted the body to decompose.

- What do you mean,
whoever did this?

He did it.
- Look again, officer.

What's missing?

- A knife.

- Maybe Officer Jonesy will
get us a cup of coffee

while we discuss the case.

- That's one hell of a way
for a cop to go.

- Yeah.

- Excuse me, I'm sorry.
Did you just say

the victim was a cop?

- Your boss didn't tell you?

Officer Jonesy,
meet Officer Ted Cody,

.

- So what are we looking at?

- Cause of dead, broken neck.

Judging by these severe
cervical vertebral fractures,

I'd say Officer Cody
was face down,

the killer put a knee here and--

Snapped his head back.

- And the ankles?
- Can't say.

Maybe when he hit the tub.

Also, he was Mike Tysoned.
- The guy bit his ear?

- Someone with
very strong fingers

did a grab, pull and rip.

No pulmonary edema,
minimal bleeding,

he was dead before
his wrists were cut

and was dumped into the tub.

- So someone went to
a lot of trouble

to make us think
that this was a suicide.

- Like we're gonna miss
a broken neck.

- Us, no.
But the locals might.

- See the jagged nature
of the cuts?

I'd say we're looking at
a bread knife.

Something like that.

- And all this happened when?

- Because the body
was in hot water,

I'd say the TOD was sometime
around noon yesterday.

Give or take.

- Okay.
- Thanks, Joy.

- Oh, it gets better.

Officer Cody had
pancreatic cancer.

He didn't have more than
six weeks left on this planet.

We found traces of gemcitabine
oxaliplatin--that's chemo--

along with some alcohol
in his blood.

That's a big no-no.

- I always thought
I'd get that call

in the middle of the night,
you know?

Shot on duty, car accident.

Suicide never even
crossed my mind.

I guess it makes sense,
with the pain and medicines.

Bills piling up.
- I'm sorry, Mrs. Cody.

Nobody told you?
- Told me what?

- Your husband--
- Former husband.

- We're thinking he may have
been murdered.

He was a selfish prick, okay?

He insisted on dying alone.

Soon as he was diagnosed,
he moved out.

- When was that?
- Eight months ago.

- I don't even know
what I'm gonna do for money.

I just--he was giving me
1,200 a month in cash.

He was working another job to
help with TJ--that's our son.

- You okay, Mom?

- I'm fine, babe.
- This about Dad?

- Mm-hmm.
Why don't you go back inside?

I'll tell you in a minute.

He's Ted's pride, you know?

He got accepted into
four Ivy League schools.

That's not bad
for a son of a cop.

- There should be a law
against cops getting married.

- Thought they had one already.

So is Officer Cody
a martyr or a mook?

- Hard to say.

- His ex wasn't lying
about medical bills.

You got x-rays, surgeries,
meds, insurance.

Second notice, third notice.

Looks like he owes about
half a mil.

- I had six weeks to go,
I'd make 'em wait, too.

Whoa.

- I'd say this is about
20 grand times two.

- You're kidding.
- Hey, I used to work narcotics.

- Things are starting
to lean towards mook.

- Sure, Cody and me
used to be partners,

but since he got put on a desk,
we don't talk so much anymore.

- Oh, that's nice.
But we didn't ask that.

- Fine.
I was his last partner, yeah.

- Where'd you work?
- North Side.

Lake View, Lincoln Park.

Blue haired ladies looking for
their lost labradoodles.

Not exactly high-risk stuff.

- Let me ask you this,
Officer Hawkins.

If I were to go to your crib,
make myself a drink,

go to your freezer,
get some ice.

What am I gonna find?

- What is this, "Jeopardy"?

- Just answer the question.

- My freezer?
Uh, a couple of brats,

mint chocolate chip ice cream.

I don't know, what?
- No cash?

- What the hell
are you implying?

- Your partner--
- Former partner.

- He had almost
40 grand stashed away.

Do you know anything
about that?

- No way.

You wanna go through my fridge?
My underwear drawer?

Help yourselves.
I got nothing to hide.

If Cody was into something,
I don't know nothing about it.

- When's the last time
you saw him?

- The last time I said hello
was, like, two weeks ago.

Truth is, dying guys
kinda give me the willies.

Have a good day.

- So you're ruling out his ex.

- Actually, I think
she loved the guy.

- Either way, she wasn't strong
enough to break his neck

even if he was dying.

You sure?

- You know how many carcinogens
are in a hot dog?

- Too late now.
- Officer Cody's

former partner
is a sack of nails.

Not my first choice
if I were gonna run a scam.

Hang on.

Nagel.
Yeah.

- Seriously, though,
I don't eat meat.

- Thanks, Ronnie.

Ronnie ran Cody's
incoming and outgoing.

On the day he was murdered,

he called the sack of nails
three times.

- It's not what you think.
- No?

Why don't you tell us
what it is?

- Well, I don't know you.

You come asking me questions
about some dead guy.

What am I supposed to say?

- Telling the truth
works for me.

- What were you and Cody
talking about the day he died?

- Meat.

- What?

- Just meat.

- This is really the story
you're going with?

- It's the truth.

Cody had a standing order
at some North Side butcher.

Steaks, chops,
all kinds of meat.

Once a month--
because he was desked up--

I would go pick it up for him
out of the kindness of my heart.

- Okay.
How much meat we talking?

In dollars?
- I don't know.

A lot. A couple a grand.
- On a cop's salary?

- All I know is I would
walk in the front door

and they would hand me
a couple of cartons.

It was totally legit.

- You're kidding me, right?

- I just assumed Cody
was in tight with the owner.

He'd get the meat at a discount

and sell it to the guys
for a profit.

- All due respect,
if it was all legit,

why did you lie about it?

- You know it is against regs

to do personal business
on city time.

I didn't need the bosses
coming down on me.

- We're gonna talk
to this butcher, Hawkins.

So help me, if you're lying--
- Who is he?

- Beckett's Meats.

It's over on, um--

- I know where it is.

- John Beckett.

- The one and only.

- What am I missing?

- Five years ago--

Beckett owns a small farm
and meat packing warehouse.

He is up to his eyeballs
in debt.

So he does what
any thinking man does.

- Burns it all down.

- For the insurance.
- He killed a lot of pigs,

a whole bunch of chickens,
but more importantly,

a farmer sleeping in the barn.

- His name was Paul Marcus.

- Okay.

So that's felony murder,
not to mention

numerous animal cruelty
felonies.

- That's why I arrested him.
- Beckett's attorney

argued that the fire was started
by an electrical short.

- Fire marshal swore
up and down it was gasoline.

- The jury deliberated
for four days.

Four damn days.

And then they acquitted
the son of a bitch.

- I doubt Beckett was just being
nice to an ailing copper.

- Go talk to him.

.

- Johnny Beckett.

- Detective Dawson, right?

- It's SA Investigator, now.

This is Investigator Nagel.

- Well, I realize we have
a special relationship,

but for retail, you're gonna
have to go to the shop.

- We're here about
CPD Officer Ted Cody.

- Who?
- He spent $2,000 a month

in your store.

- Yeah? A lot of people
spend more.

- How many of them end up
murdered in a bathtub?

- Are you accusing me
of something?

- Breathing.

- Cody lived alone.
He was dying.

I doubt he'd be eating
that much meat.

- Well, it's the best meat
in the city.

- He was flush with cash,
hidden in his freezer.

- Where the meat should've been.

- I heard he liked peas.

Did you talk to
the Jolly Green Giant?

- Screw you, Beckett.

- Hey, the state and the Feds
already have.

Every time I turn around,
you people got a new regulation.

- What's that gotta do
with Ted Cody?

- So now what?
You're accusing me of murder.

Again.

Look, I already told you.

I don't know Officer Cody.

But I am sorry
for the city's loss.

Now I gotta get back to work.

You wanna look around,
help yourself.

Just, uh, watch where you step.

Those look like nice shoes.

- Guy's still an ass wipe.

- I wonder if there's
a bar around here.

- Yeah, that guy? I can use one.
- Not for us, Dawson.

Alcohol in Cody's blood?

There wasn't
a minibar in his room.

- What can I get for you folks?
- Nothing for us.

- Okay. What can I do for you?
- You ever seen this guy?

- Yeah, a couple days ago.

- How about him?

- No, I don't think so.

Yeah, he was here
with the first guy.

- You happen to hear
what they were talking about?

- It was kinda busy, you know?
Are they in trouble?

- Thanks.

- I had a good reason
to lie to you.

- Yeah? We're really looking
forward to hearing it.

- Should I call
my attorney now?

- Hey, you clean up the lie,
you won't need to.

- Nice.

- Okay. Cody's a friend.

He called in a bad state.

He can't take it anymore.

The cancer, the money.
He wanted there to be

something left for his kid.

So he tells me
he's gonna end it all.

- Did he ask you for money?
- No.

No, he was a proud guy.

Proud and stupid.

I would've given him
whatever he wanted.

- Mm. Where'd you go?

- Local joint called Ernie's.

See, I thought maybe
what he really wanted

was to talk it out.

We shot the breeze.
I thought everything was fine.

So I went back to work
at the farm.

- You do realize
your life would be a lot easier

if you told us all that
from the get-go.

- When I heard he was dead,

I thought for sure
you people would blame me.

And it looks like I was right.

Holy crap.

The big guns, huh?
The heavy artillery.

- Good to see you too,
Mr. Beckett.

On that side of the table.
- Yeah, fine. I'm guilty.

Guilty of honoring
a friend's last request.

Keeping his confidentiality.

- Cody's receipts
from your store,

it didn't take Steve Jobs
to figure out they were fake.

Probably cooked them up
the moment my investigators

walked out of there.

You were paying him off
for something in meat.

- And cash.

- I wanna know why.

- On your mark. Get set.

Call my lawyer.

- Gail?

- Hey, Peter.

- Hey.
- Hi.

- You look good.
- Eh, you don't have to lie.

I'm managing.

My mom saw a commercial for one
of those Christian dating sites.

She thinks it's time
for me to move on.

Widow with
a high school education

looking for a man
who works with pigs.

She doesn't understand.

Paul's high school
football jersey--

the one he was wearing
the night he died--

I keep it beside my bed.

Can't bring myself
to get rid of it.

- You shouldn't
feel guilty, Gail.

- Neither should you.

I received your Christmas cards.
I meant to write back, but--

- Something's come up.
It may not be anything,

but we're investigating Beckett.

- I thought you couldn't,
legally.

- It's on another matter.

- He burned down another farm?
- Not quite.

I know it's a long shot,

but do you remember
Paul ever mentioning

a police officer named Ted Cody?

- But I could.

I'd say anything.

I'm sorry.

That man should be in prison.

- Can I ask you something?

- Sorry.

What?

- The verdict in the arson case.

What went wrong?

- Um, I had the facts
on my side.

I had the law on my side,
but I still lost.

- Nobody bats a thousand.

- No, it's not that, I--

My dad was an ADA back East.

- I know who your dad is.

- He use to love
coming to my games

when his trial schedule
allowed it.

He sat in the same seat.

It was my senior year.
City playoffs.

And he canceled everything.
Promised he'd be at every game.

And there he was,
sitting in that same seat.

And we made it to the finals.

I'm on the mound,
it's the bottom of the 6th.

I look up in the stands...

and his seat's empty.

I didn't see him for three days.

Sure, he called.
But I didn't answer.

Screw him, right?

Turns out he caught a homicide.

A ten-year-old girl.

When he finally got home,
he said to me,

"Someday, you'll meet someone
who's lost

"the most important thing
in his or her life.

"And if you don't do something
to ease their pain,

then what good are you?"

- Mrs. Marcus.

Laura.
- Color me shocked.

- What do you got?
- They found the knife.

- Who?
- A local cop. Officer Jonesy.

He went dumpster diving
and struck gold.

- Prints?
- Four point match

to Mr. John Beckett.

- Ah.

Arrest the bastard.

Hm.

- Hey!
- Whoa, whoa, what the hell?

- I saved the nice
porterhouse for you.

Mr. Tyler's gonna love it.
Terry, wrap that one up.

- John Beckett,
you're under arrest.

I've been waiting
a long time to say that.

- For what?
- Does the murder of Ted Cody

ring a bell?
- Oh, you gotta be kidding me.

- You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say can
and will be used against you

in a court of law.
- Oh!

- You have a right
to an attorney.

If you can't afford one,
one will be appointed to you.

- All right, folks,
it's just a misunderstanding.

I'll be back shortly.
- Do you understand

.

- You're grinning
like a twice-shot fox.

- What's that
supposed to mean?

- All I know is my old man
said it just before

he smacked the smile
off my face.

- Peter.
- What is it?

- Beckett's attorney filed
a motion to exclude the knife.

- And thus, the smack.

- I found the knife in a
dumpster on Radcliffe and Main,

about a quarter mile
from the motel.

I-- I ended up
in waist-high trash

before I found it.

- I'll show you what
has been marked as

People's 5.

Do you recognize it?
- Sure.

That's the inventory sheet
for the knife.

- What time does it say
you found the knife?

- 8:05 a.m.

- What time does it say
you logged it in?

- 9:21.
- I'll offer this:

it's an official record
from the city of Lemont.

Department of Sanitation,
to be precise.

It's for the day Officer Jonesy
found the knife in question.

- Any objections, Mr. Stone?

- Uh, none for the purpose
of this hearing.

- The department
tracks its trucks.

It knows exactly
where every truck is

at every minute of the day.

Please look at the column
for truck number four.

When was it on the corner
of Radcliffe and Main?

- 7:17 a.m.

- Picked up at 7:17.
That's almost 45 minutes

before you combed through
that waist-high trash

where you found the knife
in that very dumpster.

Now, who's lying,
Officer Jonesy?

You or the computer
at the Department of Sanitation?

- I looked through
six dumpsters.

- Answer the question, Officer.

- Me.

- Now what time did you really
find the knife?

- About two in the morning.

- 2:00 a.m. until 9:21 a.m.

That's almost 7 1/2 hours.

Plenty of time to corrupt
the evidence.

- Objection.
- Sustained.

- Are you aware that by
knowingly signing

a false inventory sheet,
you are both

tampering with evidence
and obstructing justice?

Do you have a lawyer,
Officer Jonesy?

- Objection.
- Withdrawn.

I have nothing more.

- During the time in question,

where was the knife?

- In my car.
In the trunk of my car.

- Was it in an evidence bag?
- Yes.

- Was the car in your garage?

- It was parked on the street
in front of my ex-wife's place.

I slept there on the couch.
It was supposed to be

my night with my kid,
but I--because I was working,

and I just wanted to see him
before he went to school.

But I did find the knife
in that dumpster.

- No further questions.

- In light of the witness's
admitted perjury

and failure to prove
a valid chain of evidence,

I move the knife
to be excluded from evidence.

- Defense motion is granted.

The knife is
inadmissible at trial.

- Your shop told me
you were here.

- What the hell? My guest
won't be here for a few.

What can I get you?

- No, I'm good.

- So, what? Are we supposed to
talk like we're old pals?

- Why not?
We're both grown ups.

- Hope there are
no hard feelings.

You know what, Stone?
You may not see it this way now,

because you're fresh off
the fire,

but this is a win
for the little guy.

I mean, just look at
what they call the case:

The People of the State of
Illinois Versus Beckett, John P.

I mean, the deck is kinda
stacked, isn't it?

That's almost 13 million people
against one butcher.

- Who killed two of them.

- Whatever happened to bygones?

- They don't exist for me.
It's my special problem.

- Well, I recommend Tums
for the agita.

- It's more like
a thorn in my paw.

The further I walk, the deeper
it goes, the more it hurts.

- You wanna know what I think?

I think this is it for you.

Trying to put the bad guys away
day after day.

The thing is, one morning,
you're gonna wake up,

shave, brush your teeth,
look at yourself in the mirror

and realize you're the one
in the cage.

.

- Two murders
and I can't prove either one.

- Is there any chance
he didn't do it?

- No.

- What you know won't pay for
this cup of coffee.

It's what you can prove
in court that counts.

- And without the knife,
all I can prove

is they had drinks together.

- Why?

- What?
- Why did Beckett kill Cody?

- You know, technically, motive
isn't an element of murder.

- Well, it's part of
a good narrative.

Did you ever think that Beckett
beat you on the arson case

because he just told
a better story?

- An insurance scam?
- No.

A hard-working business man
being swallowed by debt.

Juries can relate
to that, Peter.

- So they ignore a murder?

- Juries love a good story.

Tell 'em one.

- There's nothing
in Cody's email

that suggests
he even knew Beckett.

- We know they knew each other.

- Well, they sure tried
to hide it.

- Find out why.

- There is something
that's not here.

According to the motel manager,
Cody booked the room online.

Thing is, he never received
a confirmation email.

- Someone must have.
Find it.

- He booked through
Hotels-R-U,

under someone else's
email address.

JRudkus@UGTmail.com.

- Fake credit card?
- Nope.

Cody's credit card,
correct billing information.

Now, if there's an IP address--

Ah, got it.

Looks like it was sent
to an internet café.

- JRudkus@UGTmail.com.
- As in Jurgis Rudkus?

- Who?
- Upton Sinclair, "The Jungle."

Rudkus worked in
a meat packing plant.

- Anyway, Cody's motel receipt
was sent to that address.

- What?

- Beckett probably
didn't finish the book.

- Why do you say that?
- Because Rudkus goes to prison.

- Peter, this was just
hand-delivered.

- Thanks.

"No hard feelings.
John Beckett"

- Mm. I'd send them back.

When did Cody start
getting extra cash?

- His ex-wife said
back in the summer of 2012.

- Right after the arson trial.

- A payoff.
- Was there anything unusual

about Cody's spending?

- Rent, water and electric,
1,200 a month to his ex.

- Any big transactions?

- There was a single large
cash deposit.

$30,000 to his son's
college savings account.

- Well, that's nowhere near
enough for four years at an Ivy.

Even with the 40,000 cash
in his freezer.

- That's not enough for
four years at a state school.

- Cody was blackmailing Beckett.

First meat, then cash, then Cody
put his hand out for more

and Beckett cut it off.
- We can't prove that.

- Yes, but it's a narrative.

Let's get it in front
of a grand jury.

- You know what I remember?

That smug smile when the jury
came back not guilty.

- I did everything I could
not to look at him.

- Mm.

- A grand jury subpoena?

You gotta be kidding me.

- I thought we were pals, Stone.

If you want something,
just ask.

- It's all in a flash drive.

Mr. Beckett's bank statements
and financials--

both business and personal--
for the last ten years.

- You know what?
That's the last time

I have a drink
with a dying friend.

- Oh, uh, Mr. Beckett,
I almost forgot

to thank you for the steaks.

I'm sure my neighbor's dog's
gonna love them.

- I should've gone
to butcher school.

Beckett's got this,
an SL and a Range Rover.

- Who knew there was
such a thing as boat tax?

- This isn't a boat.
It's a Beneteau.

Kingpins love them some boat.

This costs about a half mil.

- Hey, you find anything?
- If you're gonna

seize Beckett's assets,
start with this.

- Aw, it's too late.
He stopped paying taxes on it.

He must have sold it.
- When?

- Uh, five years ago.

- He probably needed
the money to pay his lawyer

in the arson case.

- Oh, and the only big deposit
made back then

was for 50 grand in April.
- Huh.

All yachts need to be registered

with the Department
of Natural Resources.

Find out who bought
Beckett's boat.

- I gotta say, Ms. Caufield,

you don't seem like
the kind to buy a boat.

- Nothing brings me peace
like a day on the lake.

- I agree.

Have we--have we met?

- Not that I know of.

Did I do something wrong?

- Actually, we're looking
into John Beckett,

the man who sold you the boat.

- He seemed nice enough.
- I'd say so.

He sold you a $500,000 boat
for 50,000.

Please don't tell me
it was a fixer-upper.

- You know what?
I'd like to see it.

You sold it.

And I bet as quickly
as possible.

The boat was a payoff.

- I don't know what
you're talking about.

- Sure you do.
And we have met before.

You were a juror
in John Beckett's arson trial.

He paid you to fix
the outcome of his trial.

- Am I going to jail?
- No, the question

isn't will you go to jail,
Ms. Caufield.

It's for how long.

- It wasn't a good time for me.

- A man was murdered.
You helped his killer go free.

- People like you--
you'll never know.

- The farmer, Paul Marcus--
- Was dead already.

The landlord tripled
my rent here.

There's no way I could
stay in business.

I needed help.

A man knocks at my door
and says he can save my life.

- Who?

- At a minimum,
Cody was Beckett's bag man.

He delivered 50 grand in cash
to Vanessa Caufield.

She used the money to buy

Beckett's $1/2 million boat.

- Nice work if you can get it.

- All she had to do
was vote for an acquittal.

- Why wasn't there a hung jury?

- She went above and beyond.

With two other hold outs,
she convinced nine jurors

to let a guilty man walk.

- We think Beckett got tired
of paying Cody.

- Well, you've got the beginning

of a good narrative
on the Cody murder.

Now all we need
is some evidence.

- I'm going after
Beckett for arson.

And the murder of Paul Marcus.

- In what country?
In this one,

the state's only allowed
one bite at the apple.

- Well, not necessarily.

- Excuse me, did someone
rewrite the Fifth Amendment

while I was having lunch?

- I have to admit, Mr. Stone,
I am a little baffled, myself.

- The rule against double
jeopardy only applies,

and I quote,
"once jeopardy has attached."

- And it attaches once the jury
has been empanelled and sworn.

- Only, in the Aleman case,

the Appellate Court held
that when a trial judge

takes a bribe, the defendant
was never in jeopardy.

So the rule wasn't violated
and the People could retry him.

- There's a big difference
between one judge and 12 jurors.

- Don't you mean 11 jurors?

I have Vanessa Caufield's
grand jury testimony,

in which she swears
that Mr. Beckett paid her

what amounts to $450,000
to ensure that she would

only vote for an acquittal.

Ergo, Mr. Beckett was never
really in jeopardy.

That trial,
for all intents and purposes,

never happened.

- Very clever, Mr. Stone.

- I hope there's a "but" coming.

- Sorry, counsel.

You can appeal if you want,

but the trial of Mr. Beckett
for arson and felony murder

of Paul Marcus will proceed.

- Thank you, Your Honor.

.

- From the burn patterns,
we determined

that the fire originated
in a back room of the warehouse,

with the help of an accelerant.
- Which was?

- Gasoline.

Based upon construction of
the warehouse and the fire load,

we determined that the fire was
burning for at least 30 minutes

when Mr. Beckett called 911.

- Did you find that odd?
- Yes.

His residence
was on the property,

less than 100 yards
from the warehouse.

Dozens of pigs burned to death.

There's no way someone
in the house couldn't smell it.

- Hm.
Tell us about Paul Marcus.

- He was an employee
of Mr. Beckett.

Apparently, he was asleep in the
warehouse when the fire started.

He died from smoke inhalation.

No further questions.

- In the first trial,
you testified

that it was possible

this fire was caused
by an electrical short.

Didn't you?
- I said it was possible,

but we found gas dispersion
in places

where gas wasn't supposed to be.

- But it was possible.
- When I said that,

I meant that--
- Yes or no?

- Sure.
- Thank you.

- When we initially
questioned Mr. Beckett,

I smelled gasoline
on his person.

- How did he respond to that?

- He said he spilled the gas
while he was filling up his car.

So we checked
the surveillance cameras

at the gas station
he said he went to that day

and neither he nor his car
were ever there.

- And that's when
you arrested him.

- After the fire marshal
told us he suspected arson,

we checked
Mr. Beckett's financials

and we learned that he was
in financial trouble.

- Could you please
be more specific?

- He owed nearly $2 million.

Finally, we learned
that his property

was insured for $3 million.

That's when we arrested him.

- Thank you.

- How many gas stations
were there within ten miles

of Mr. Beckett's property?

- Three or four.

- There were five, actually.

Did you check
the surveillance cameras

at the other four gas stations
close by?

- No. We checked the one
he said he used.

- Mr. Beckett's property
just burned down.

His business--everything he
owned--got destroyed.

Now is it possible
that he made a mistake

when he told you
what gas station he used?

- Yeah, I guess.

- In your experience,
is it rare for a business

to insure itself against fire?

- No.
- Thank you.

- Paul and I were married
for 13 years.

He loved working with pigs.

Ever since summers
in high school.

I never understood it,
but Mr. Beckett paid him okay.

- How long did he work
for Mr. Beckett?

- Since he opened the farm.

Maybe three years.

- I know this is difficult,
Mrs. Marcus,

but please tell us
about the night Paul died.

- We had a fight--
like all married people--

about something stupid.

- Do you remember
what you fought about?

- He went bowling after work
with his friend Mel,

and we were supposed to
have dinner at my mom's.

So when I got home,
I told him

that he wasn't going to
sleep in my bed that night.

He grabbed a six pack
and he left.

He was huffy like that.

He slept in Mr. Beckett's barn.
He had a key.

The next morning,
there was a cop at my door

telling me that my husband
had died in a fire.

- I'm sorry.

- I don't even know
where our son is.

He just left because
he blamed me for his dad dying.

And now...

I'm just alone.

Three lives ruined, Mr. Beckett.
Was it worth it?

- Objection.
- No further questions.

- I have no questions.

- All I ever wanted was
a business of my own, you know?

- Was there a problem?
- Not at first.

I took out a loan
to lease some land

and build a small farm and
warehouse to package fresh meat.

Within a couple of months,
the county was up my ass

about fixing a pot hole
in the driveway.

And there was a fine
attached to that, of course.

Then the FDA shows up.

They say that my packing
was mislabeled

because even though
my chickens are cage-free,

they're not cage-free
according to the government.

Why? Because there's
an irrigation pipe 25 feet below

and an opening in the dirt.

And that was another fine.

Then there was the EPA
for cow flatulation.

They say that the design
of my livestock waste lagoon

was a half an inch shallow.

They said I would have
to build a whole

brand new indoor facility.
- Did you?

- It would've cost
over a million dollars.

The fine's got to be
$20,000 per day.

Who can afford that?

I owed over $2 million.

Maybe I got a little sloppy
or careless

with the electric
in the warehouse.

- What did you do with the
insurance money you received?

- I paid off
the damn government.

I am sorry about
what happened to Paul.

And I feel for Gail.

But there is just
no way in hell

I'd burn down my own farm.

- I feel for you, Mr. Beckett.

Perhaps you consoled yourself
on your 41-foot yacht.

- Okay, that was stupid.
I admit it.

But I was working hard,
I thought I'd treat myself.

- To a $500,000 boat.

- I had a loan.
It's the American way, right?

- So you also used
your insurance money

to pay off your boat loan.

- And what's wrong with that?

- Nothing.

Until you sold
the $1/2 million boat

to a juror to fix
your arson case.

- I didn't know what to do.

I didn't do anything wrong
and the next thing I know,

I'm on trial for murder.

You know, all of you--
the cops, the firemen,

the whole damn government,
and you, Mr. Stone--

you can't let a decent man run
his business and live his life.

- A decent man wouldn't
kill an employee in a fire

he started for money.
- Is there a question?

- Ask the cop.
Yeah, maybe he smelled gasoline.

But you ask him about the burns
on my clothes and my hands.

- Are you saying
you tried to save Paul Marcus?

- I already said I didn't know
he was in the warehouse.

I tried to save the pigs.

The fire was everywhere and
I was trying to get them out.

But they were out of
their minds, screaming.

Have you ever heard
a pig scream?

You can't just open a gate and
let them run out like horses.

You gotta grab 'em
by the back legs.

And they're 200 pounds.

- Mr. Stone?

Sorry, Judge.

Uh--

You grab the pigs by the--

grab the pigs by the back legs
and then what?

- Do you know what it takes
to wrangle a pig?

You gotta put your knee
in their back and grab an ear

and then maybe--maybe
they'll do what you want.

- Nothing further.

- That's it for today.

- You wanna talk? Hm?

- I'll listen.

- Why is she here?
- I invited her.

If you're uncomfortable,
we can wait to hear

what the jury decides.
- No, that's fine.

Okay, the way I see it,
we pretty much

fought this to a draw.
- I see it differently.

- All you've got
is bribing a juror.

- I don't know, I thought
the fire chief

was pretty convincing.
- You know what?

I'll roll the dice.
I'll take my chances.

- That's fine with me.

We'll worry about
the other charges later.

- What's he talking about?

- Murdering Ted Cody.

- The knife was excluded.
You have no evidence.

- Well, maybe,
but I've got a narrative.

Here, tell me what you think.

Cody was blackmailing
your client for bribing a juror.

He decided he didn't want
to pay anymore.

- You can't prove anything.

- So?

What you're looking at are
pictures of Ted Cody's injuries.

There's the bruised ankles
and the broad bruising

on his back and neck,
which was, of course, broken.

Let's not forget
the torn earlobe.

You wrangled Ted Cody
just like you wrangled pigs.

Add to that the free meat,
the cash in Cody's freezer,

Ms. Caufield's testimony,
and the fact that

you're pretty much
a low-life in general,

and I've got one hell
of a story for the jury.

Oh, and I'll make sure that
your sentences run consecutively

so you'll be out
when you're 130.

- Last meat on the bone, huh?
That's what you want.

- I could be happy
with you in Stateville

for the next 35 years.

Which is a bargain,
considering the minimum

for two murders
is natural life.

- Yeah, right. Okay.

What the hell?

- I wanna hear you say
you killed Ted Cody.

- He was a dirty cop.
- Clock's ticking.

No deal.

- Yeah, okay.

Sure.

I killed him.

- And Paul Marcus.

- I killed Paul Marcus.

Shame on you!

- All I can say is I'm glad
I don't eat meat.

- Guess it's true
what they say.

Never ask how
the sausage is made.

- For a minute,
I felt for Beckett.

I mean, all those regulations,
he was suffocating.

- We get the government
we deserve, Anna.

- It's for you
from Gail Marcus.

- What's that?

It's the reason I do what I do.

- Drink up while you can, folks.

'Cause starting tomorrow,
I'm shut down for four days

to fix some problem that
the health inspector found.

- Got 'im.
- Yeah, we did.