All language subtitles for Crossing Jordan s01e17 crime and punishment.eng

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Nigel, have you seen Lily? She's
got some papers I need to sign.

No, no,
I haven't seen her.

Are you about to
blow something up?

Maybe.

Well, don't.

Damn.

Lily, I've been looking for
you. Do you have... Yeah.

You going somewhere?

Yes, Dr. Macy. I'm off to
visit my brother in Mexico.

Just thought I'd come by and say adiós.

I wish you'd told me
this sooner.

You signed a vacation
request form two weeks ago.

Don't sweat it.

I can't expect you to remember every
little piece of paper you initial, can I?

Let me help you.
I'm fine.

Lily, I hope this doesn't have
anything to do with you and me.

I'm just gonna
get some sun

and lie on the beach

and get really
stinking drunk.

Have a lovely week,
Dr. Macy.

Lilita!
Hasta luego and...

Oh, don't forget my tequila. Oh, yeah.

And remember,
no worm.

Of course.

Bye, Dr. C.

So you knew she was
going to Mexico?

Sure, she's only been talking
about it for, like, a month, man.

Guess I've been
a little distracted.

And would this distraction happen
to answer to the name of Maggie?

Macy.

Yeah, she's here
right now.

Okay, I'll send
her right over.

Dispatch has got a decedent in a
motel on Columbus just off the Skyway.

They requested
you personally.

Hooking up with your ex,
driving Lily out of the country,

I'd say you got a lot of balls
in the air, there, Chief.

Body's getting
cold, Jordan.

Yeah, yeah.

Woody.

Doc? Stuck together again.
Must be karma, huh?

Either that or you keep telling
dispatch to specifically request me.

So what do we got?

Night maid came in,
saw this.

Lividity's consistent with
the position of the body.

She's been dead
at least two hours.

Sheets are gone.

Someone must have been
cleaning up after themselves.

Yeah, everything's been wiped
down. Not a print in the house.

There is a big hole
by the phone jack right here.

Maid said it was
not there before.

Peeping Tom?

No. Doesn't go
all the way through.

So, Doc, what is she
telling you?

Possible strangulation.
Thumb marks on the neck.

Anyone see who was
in here with her?

The desk clerk said she checked in
alone, registered under "Jane Smith. "

You think
that's an alias?

No prints, no ID.
Heck, no clothes.

Oh, we did find these
on the dresser.

"Q Storage. "

Quiet broad. Oh? What did she store in here?

Not much. She just liked
to hang out in there.

Who hangs out
in a storage facility?

None of
my business.

This woman, she give you a
name when she rented the unit?

I got the card
back in the office.

Jane, uh...

Let me guess.
Smith?

Yeah, that's it.

Here we go.

Jeez, Louise.

Well! Looks like our girl
had herself a hobby.

Whips and chains?

Yep.

See, I understand
the whips,

but what does one do
with the chains, exactly?

Oh, they're more for show, cosmetic thing.

From what I hear!

Uh-huh.

Oh, hello. Look at the
minute punctures on her thumb.

Definitely
ante-mortem.

Thumb screws.
She was tortured.

If we're assuming she wasn't
restrained, she probably enjoyed it.

What?

Hmm? Oh, nothing. I just realized
how tragically boring my life is.

Look, it's not my problem
if you didn't receive them,

it's my problem
if I didn't send them.

And I sent them!

Hold on.

May I help you?

No, I'll wait.
Finish your call.

Yeah.

Yes, I know they're
time-sensitive. They're eggs.

No, I do not have
a tracking number.

Can you put that
down, please?

Sorry.

Huh?

Yeah.

No.

Look, I'm gonna have
to call you back.

Okay, I'll do that.
You're welcome.

Jackass.

Some people, huh?

Can I help you,
Dr. Stiles?

I was hoping
we could talk.

About what?

Oh, I don't know,
the usual. The weather,

how cheery life is
here in the morgue.

What is this?

What is what?

You're a shrink. Why do we need to talk?

Oh, I don't know.
So you can feel better?

And who says I need
to feel better?

Doesn't everyone
need to feel better?

I feel fine!
No, you don't.

You're trying
to provoke me.

Is it working?

You're not a
very good shrink.

You got that right.

But, uh, you're
still stuck with me.

Now, they sent me the incident
report, so we should talk.

How about
the conference room?

Say, uh, elevenish?

Sounds like I don't have a choice.

It does, doesn't it?

Doesn't matter because... Whoa!
Hey, uh, Doc, I was looking for you.

Nigel. Hey, Woodrow. What it is, mate?

You guys find anything interesting?

Yeah, you could say that.
Thumb screws, toe screws,

and judging from her
collapsed larynx,

the death squeeze was the last
in a very long line of squeezes.

Anything from
the rape kit?

No. No fluids,
no condom residue.

So we have a naked woman who was choked
and tortured to death, but no sex.

Yeah, whatever this was
about, it was not sex.

Any luck with
your prints?

Uh, yeah, RMV has her
as Marsha Schraber,

37, married,
address in the burbs.

Her husband
have an alibi?

He's gonna be at the precinct in an hour.

You could come down
and watch if you want.

I mean, if you're not
doing anything, or...

Yeah. No, cool.
I'll be there.

Okay! Great!

All right. Well, uh,
I'll see you then.

Yeah.

Jordan's got
a boyfriend!

Oh, you want to yank
on my pigtails, too, Nige?

'Cause I got
cheerleading practice.

Come on. That sweet country
innocence? Those sparkling blue eyes?

I would chew him up
and spit him out!

Ah, now, that
sounds like fun.

I can't believe
this is happening.

Anything you can tell me
about your wife

would really help us
out, Mr. Schraber.

Any friends we
could talk to?

Marsha doesn't...

Didn't have friends.
She was a very private person.

You said you haven't seen
your wife in over a week,

but you never filed a
missing-persons report?

It wasn't the first
time she disappeared.

We weren't really
getting on very well.

Are you aware your wife rented
a unit at Q Storage downtown?

No, I didn't
know that.

Then why were
your prints in it?

You...

You were in there.

Jerry,

Is there something
you want to tell me?

Marsha spent hours
on her laptop.

I got the feeling
she was making friends.

One day while she was out, I
tried to check her correspondence,

but I tripped some
sort of security bug.

Next day, the computer
disappeared. So did she.

When did you go to
the storage facility?

I followed her there once,
but I didn't go in.

Then when she disappeared,
I was worried,

so two days ago,
I went back,

bribed the day man to let me
inside. Marsha wasn't there.

But your prints were.

What were you
looking for?

I am a respected
attorney.

If there is any way
you could ensure

that none of this
could be made public...

Jerry.

You take something
out of that room?

The laptop.

I thought we were
supposed to talk.

Great! Let's talk.

Aren't you supposed
to ask me something?

Am I?

And you actually
get paid for this.

You don't want
to be here, do you?

Oh, you are good.

Thanks.

So what? You want me
to talk about the incident?

Let's back up.

What caused
the incident?

A disagreement.

A disagreement with whom?
And about what?

Dr. Macy. A case.

Fantastic! Now we're
getting somewhere.

Feel better yet?

Okay.

Tell me about this case.

Last week, the police brought
in a dead boy, Brian Kirsh.

They asked
for a blind autopsy.

What's that?

When the police think that the M.E. Might
have to eventually testify in a trial,

they don't tell us
anything on the admit.

It eliminates
potential bias.

This detective didn't tell me under
what circumstances the boy was found.

He just wanted the medical facts.
Cause of death, method of death.

Anything striking
about Brian Kirsh?

Striking?

Well, what was your first
impression, looking at his body?

Nothing.

I see lots of dead bodies.

First thing that pops
into your mind.

He was wearing
muddy sneakers.

The laces on one
were untied.

Go on.

I performed the autopsy
with Dr. Sanders.

The boy was
covered in bruises.

Arms,

legs,

chest,

back.

Some of them were a week old.
Others were more recent.

There was also considerable
damage to the head.

Doctor.

Yes?

What happened next?

The detective was pushing for
a quick preliminary ruling.

And it was obvious
what had happened.

The cause of death
was repeated abuse.

Method: Homicide.

What did you feel
making that determination?

I didn't feel anything.

Of course not.

So our girl spent a lot of
time surfing the net, did she?

Uh, you might want to be
careful what you push, there.

Her husband said she may
have installed security.

So, what, you think
a middle-aged Hausfrau

could design a system
worthy of me?

Welcome back, bitch.

If you're ready to be
punished, please enter password.

All righty, then!

Password, eh?

Righty-o, let's give
"dominatrix" a try, shall we?

You uh, may not
want to do that.

Okay, this doesn't
look good.

Warning.
Unauthorized user.

A tapeworm will be
employed in 30 seconds.

Tapeworm? What the hell's a tapeworm?

It's a self-manifesting virus
designed to eat the hard drive.

In 30 seconds, this thing's
gonna be about as useful

as a toaster that
does not make toast.

Oh, what do you know about
self-manifesting viruses?

Hey, there are computers in
Wisconsin. Maybe if you had listened...

Oh, I suppose you
could do better, then?

Hey, if you hadn't messed
up and typed "dominatrix... "

I barely touched it!
What are you...

You guys, you can arm-wrestle
later. Woody, just get in there!

Be my guest.
Excuse me.

Okay. Let's see
what we can do here.

Oh, she is a
smart one, all right.

Okey-doke.
Ten seconds.

No, no, no, no, no.

All right, let's see
how you like this.

You broke it.
I didn't break it.

Did, too.
Did not.

Did, too!
Did not!

Did, too!
Password accepted.

Let's play.

We're in.

What's that?
Uh, "mydeath. Jpg. "

Okay, it's a file
created a week ago.

I think it's a compressed digital photo.

Want to tell me
how a dead woman

got a photo of her own
murder scene onto her computer

a week before she died?

Woody.

Time for school.

Five more
minutes, Mama.

Mama? I haven't heard
that one in a while.

Hey. I must have
fallen asleep.

I brought you coffee.
Just the way you like it.

Extra cream
and six sugars.

Sugar's good for you,
you know.

Mmm!

Oh, jeez!

Ah.

Oh, uh, do you mind?

Oh! No! No.

So, uh, you figure out how
Marsha predicted her own death?

I did a pixel count
on that digital photo.

It's bogus.
Cut-and-paste job.

She probably posed for it herself,
played dead for whatever reason.

Something kinky is afoot,
that's for sure.

Hey, what's this?

Oh, phone records from a private
cellular line in the laptop.

I traced every website
Marsha visited.

Looks like there's
only one.

How the hell do you stare at
a website for four hours a day?

Interactive website.

I took a quick
peek myself.

Webcam, fantasy fulfillment kind of stuff.

Pretty good place
to escape.

Oh, and get this.

It's based right here
in Boston.

Lucky us!

"S-triple-X-T-C. Com. "

Gee, I was expecting
something...

Dirtier? Welcome to
the new millennium, Wood.

White collar meets
spiked collar.

Good afternoon.
May I help you?

Hey, there. We're from...

Los Angeles.

We're in the industry
out there.

My name's Nina Leveaux and
this is my partner, Dale...

O'Bone.

Our assistant called you
about setting up a tour?

I'm sorry, I don't
see anything here.

May I ask what this
is regarding?

Damn! We were hoping
to speak to somebody

about setting up a West
Coast franchise office.

It looks like we brought our
checkbook for nothing, Dale.

Uh, yeah, Nina.

Well, I'm sure Mr. Little,
our Chief Operating Officer,

can free himself up
for a tour. One moment.

Excuse us.
Mmm-hmm?

What are you doing?

What, do you think they're gonna talk
to us with you whipping out your badge?

Believe me, I'm not whipping
anything out around here.

We're very proud
of our little operation here.

Anything in particular you'd
be interested in seeing?

Lt'd be great if you
could give us an idea

as to how things work
around here, Mr. Little.

Of course. Behind each of these
doors is one of our characters.

Characters?

All our clients have
different tastes.

The character plays a role, catering
to each particular client's fantasy.

What you see on these screens
is exactly what the client sees.

The client types in a desire
and the character acts it out.

I see Dale's already taken an interest
in Mary Catherine, our bad school girl.

Actually, she doesn't seem
to be with a client right now,

so why don't I give you
a little demonstration?

She sees
what I'm typing

on a monitor below
her webcam.

"What happens when you forget
your homework, Mary Catherine?"

As you can see, we can pretty
much cater to any desire here.

We have foot fetishes, squashing
fantasies, male-female cross-dressing.

Who's that?

That's The Punisher.

He's just about to take a break,
actually. Would you like to meet him?

Very much.

Excellent. Meantime,
I'll take Dale down

and we'll have a little
chat with Mary Catherine.

If that's okay
with you, Dale?

Yes, I'd like that.

You're late.

Sorry.

I had to talk a jumper
off a rooftop.

Yeah? And how
did that go?

Oh, he'll be arriving
here shortly.

Hope we have better luck
with you, eh, Doctor?

So, now, tell me,

what made you decide to
become a Medical Examiner?

What? Excuse me?

Well, I've always
been fascinated

by why you guys do
what you do.

I mean, of all
the medical sciences,

you choose
to cut up corpses.

Death doesn't bother me.
It's natural.

So there was no
defining moment?

I thought we were talking
about Brian Kirsh.

Okay,

let's talk about
Brian Kirsh.

You ruled it homicide as a result
of abuse. Now, what happened next?

It was the night after
I filed the prelim report.

Dr. Macy asked if I could
join him in his office.

He wasn't alone.

Doctor, please have a seat. This is
Mr. And Mrs. Kirsh, Brian's parents.

I'm just now familiarizing
myself with the case,

and they were hoping you
might be able to help them out.

Of course.

Police stopped by our house a few hours ago.

They were asking some very,
uh, unsettling questions.

We were hoping you might
be able to tell us why.

Mr. Kirsh, I found a series
of bruises on your son.

There was also
a trauma to his head.

Of course there was. He was always
getting hurt with his condition. We tried.

His condition?
Brian was autistic.

You didn't know that?

They didn't tell you that?
How can they not tell you?

Doctor, our son had
a seizure disorder.

This morning, he was
in the back yard, playing.

I only left him alone

for a minute!

I came back, he was in
the midst of a grand mal.

By the time the paramedics
got there...

I ran a full tox screen on Brian.

I didn't find any anti-seizure medication.

The side effects
were too severe.

Obviously not as severe
as the grand mal.

Are you accusing us of killing our son? Okay.

Who the hell do
you think you are?

Who the hell do
you think you are?

Mrs. Kirsh, please. I understand
how tragic this loss must be,

but let's try not to
jump to conclusions.

I'm not the one
jumping to conclusions!

This new information definitely
warrants a closer look at your son.

I'll conduct an examination
myself and we'll speak again.

Do you resent Dr. Macy
for second-guessing you?

Dr. Macy is my boss.

But that doesn't
answer the question.

It's not my place to
question Dr. Macy's judgment.

So you still believe the parents
were responsible for the boy's death.

I don't have an opinion one way
or another. It's not my job...

Now, that's getting
a bit tired.

Just between us,

were they
or weren't they?

The trauma
to the head is...

Autistics can self-inflict
injuries to the head

in any number
of ways.

The bruises on his chest were
in a hand-shaped pattern...

Could have been the
paramedics administering CPR.

I just had a
feeling, all right?

I guess that answers
my question.

Hi.

You must be
The Punisher.

Oh! Hey.

It's Herb, actually.

"The Punisher" is just
a stage name.

You must be the lady
from California.

Mr. Little said you had
a couple of questions.

Just have one.

This woman's handle
was "PunishMe. "

I get the feeling
you two were acquainted.

Oh, jeez.

Marsha.

Who are you?

Someone who wants to find
out what happened to her.

She was one
of my best clients.

Three, four-hour sessions.

I didn't mind it at first when
she started making weird requests,

but then a few weeks ago, it
just started getting weirder.

What did she
want you to do?

Well, you know,
most of my clients,

they just want me to wave the
whip around, talk mean to them.

Honestly, I'm just in
the fantasy business here.

I don't actually
do anything.

She wanted it for real.

Then why did you agree
to meet with her?

Oh, I didn't
meet with her.

You recognized her
from the photo, Herb.

This place
doesn't pay that well, see,

so I get a little extra
on the side,

putting people of certain tastes together.

I met her in a diner, gave
her a couple of handles.

I don't know
their real names,

but they were guys who could
make her fantasies come true.

She'd been exchanging emails
with one of these guys for weeks.

It was perfect.

They were gonna meet.

Man.

I can't believe
she really meant it.

Meant what?

She wanted to die.

Hey, how was
Mary Catherine?

Swell. We discussed the finer
points of spanking techniques,

so this trip wasn't a complete waste of time.

"DirtyBirdy"
and "Sickboy23"?

Screen names.

Our leather-clad friend put
Marsha in touch with these two.

I'm guessing one of them
got a little carried away.

Okay, assuming you're right, how are
we supposed to catch the right one?

Why, red-handed,
of course.

Traditionally, when you
invite someone over to dinner,

you're supposed
to do the cooking.

Fine, then you come over here and
write the bait to these two sickos.

Putting yourself out there to lure
these guys from behind their computers.

I don't know how you talked me into this.

Because you failed to
come up with a better idea.

Okay, what do you
think of this?

"Sickboy23, got your name from The Punisher.

"Let's not play games.

"Games are for the weak.

"And patience is for those
who lack conviction.

"I've been very bad.

"I've been so bad,
I don't deserve to live.

"We should meet. "

I think you're
too good at this.

Takes a thief, Wood.

"Naughty. "
What?

"I've been so naughty,
I don't deserve to live. "

Got a better ring to it.

I think I'm starting
to rub off on you, farm boy.

Mmm!

You're in
big trouble, mister.

Maggie.

You stood me up,
Garret.

Oh, God. Look, I'm so sorry.
I must have lost track of...

It's not the eating
alone that I mind so much.

I'm used to that.

But when I make a date

to have sex with someone,

I expect them
to be punctual.

Look, I'll make it up
to you, all right?

Tomorrow,
I'll leave early.

Yeah, promises, promises. What are you doing?

What do you think?
Well...

You're drawing
the blinds to...

Oh.

Do you realize that in 15 years of marriage,

we never once

had sex outside
of the bedroom.

Come on, Maggie, there's still
people here. I'm the chief now.

Oh!

Is that supposed to arouse me,
that you're the chief?

Maggie, I can't.

Well, we both know
that's not true.

You're seducing me.
Am I?

Yes.
Is it working?

Maybe.

Hmm.

Well,

how about now?

Yeah.

Well, you can't
win 'em all.

They'll answer
sooner or later.

I'll leave the computer on. If I
hear anything, I'll let you know.

Thanks for dinner.

And for letting me talk you
into another harebrained scheme.

It wasn't that
harebrained.

The laptop.

Sounds like someone
just took the bait.

"Would you like
to view?"

Here goes nothing.

I don't like
the look of it.

Oh, come on, Dad. At least
it's on your own turf.

She's a civilian,
you know.

Using her as bait to
catch some sick pervert...

All due respect, Mr.
Cavanaugh, this was not my idea.

Of course it wasn't
your idea.

Hey, you mind letting me
ride shotgun on your op?

I'd appreciate
the help.

What's your plan?

Okay, our two suspects are scheduled
to meet Jordan an hour apart.

How will you know what
they look like? We don't.

I told them I'd be carrying a
Marquis de Sade biography

and they're supposed
to bring a red rose.

As soon as we make them
as one of our marks,

I'm gonna have one of my guys run the
plates on the car they drive up in.

Guy looks dirty or anything comes
up funky, we are gonna move in.

I am not gonna put you in a
situation where you are in danger.

I can take care of myself,
cowboy. See you guys at five.

Was she always
this way?

Always.

If you keep talking,

I'm gonna have to start
that elevator again.

Maggie, we have to stop.
I'm on duty.

I'll come by tonight,
I promise.

Fine.

But if you're a no-show,

there will be severe
consequences.

Infernal contraption.

Maybe it's stuck.

Then why is the little
light on, then?

Trey, Nigel.

Dr. Macy.

Garret! Just the man
I was looking for.

How goes it,
Howard?

Hey, are you
all right?

Fantastic. Why?

Well, you look
a bit flushed.

It's a little warm
in here, I guess.

Hey,

you've been getting action,
haven't you?

Now, what would
make you say that?

Oh, I suppose
it's my keen ability

to look deep
into the hearts of men.

And the fact
that your fly's undone.

Is it that cute intake girl
you were doting on

the last time
I harangued you?

What was her name?
Phyllis?

Lily.

And I was not doting.

You mean you blew it?

And what was your excuse this time? Work?

Fear of intimacy?

Was there something
you wanted, Howard?

Oh, you're no fun.

That's what
they tell me.

Well, if you won't talk about
your dysfunctional romantic life,

perhaps we could have a word
regarding Dr. Vijay...

Bug.

Right!

Let's have a word
regarding Bug.

It's 8:00.
Where is she?

Making her entrance.

Hot damn!

I mean, you have a very
lovely daughter, Mr. Cavanaugh.

Very smart.

Showtime, boys.

We have our
first mark.

Five-six, wire-rimmed
glasses, blue shirt.

Let's run his plates.

You must be
Evangeline.

And you must be,
uh, DirtyBirdy.

How's about I just
call you Burt?

This guy's
a Poindexter.

Are you okay, Burt?

Sure.

Just a little nervous.

Jeez, that's no good.

I mean, if we're
both nervous, then

no one's in control.

Oh. Well,

not so nervous that I can't be in control.

I mean, if that's
what you want.

Is that what you want?

That's what I want.

You know, usually I have to
spend a lot of time online

before I can get a woman
to agree to meet me.

But you seemed very eager
for a submissive...

You haven't done
this before, have you?

No.

Not in real life,
I mean.

But I could.

I got an ID.
Felix Lowe.

A couple busts for indecent
exposure, nothing major.

This guy's a guppy.
Throw him back in.

No offense, Burt, but I get the feeling
that you're a real big talker online,

but in real life,
you're a sweetheart.

I could spank you
if you want.

Good night, Burt.

So what happened?

You saw the
incident report.

Yes, but you make
everything so officious.

I'd like to hear it
from the horse's mouth.

What happened after you met
with Brian Kirsh's parents?

Based on their information, I
took a look at the boy myself,

and I didn't find anything that
suggested abuse in light of the autism,

so I tossed the initial report and
listed cause of death as undetermined.

So you overruled Bug.

Yeah.

And how did he take it?

Not well.

You're putting murderers
back on the street.

Bug, this wasn't
a homicide.

Well, how can you
be so sure?

Look, it's not your fault the
police manipulated your findings

by not giving you
the relevant information.

I was not manipulated.

My findings were
completely unbiased.

I wish I could say
the same for you.

Excuse me?

The parents have
impaired your judgment.

You know, we can't allow
ourselves to become emotional

about these things,
Dr. Macy.

We can't let these things
affect our objectivity.

It seems to me I'm not the
one having objectivity issues.

Forget it.
Hold it. Just...

Wait, wait, wait. Just a second. Bug.

What's going on here?

Please, just get out
of my way, Dr. Macy.

This isn't like you.
Please, get out of my way.

No, I'm not gonna
get out of your way.

Now, is there something about
this you're not telling me?

Get out of my way!

He pushed you.
Yeah.

Now, why do you
think he did that?

I don't know.
You're the shrink.

Maybe he has a history
of abuse himself.

Well, maybe.

These things are not usually
that black and white.

I mean, he clearly identifies with this
dead boy on some level he's not aware of.

But, uh,

I'll get there.

I always do, you know.

Looks like bachelor number two is a no-show.

I'm getting a soda.

Hey there,
Evangeline.

Sorry, I forgot
to bring my rose.

Hi. Uh, you must be...

No need for names.
No need for questions.

How about you speak
when spoken to?

What the hell's going on?
How did we miss this guy?

Where are we going?

Someplace with a
little more privacy.

A positive ID
on the second mark.

Entered the bar
approximately 40 minutes ago.

Hey, wait.

I need to know exactly
what's gonna happen to me.

Want to know what's
gonna happen to you?

Who do you think you are
to ask me what I'm gonna do?

I'm sorry.

Oh, you're gonna be sorry.
You think this is a game?

Now, I know
what you want.

You set up this cute little
blind date in this cute little bar

so you'd feel safe.

But you don't want
to feel safe, do you?

No,

I don't.

Good.

Then let's go.

Okay.

Take him down.
Take him down now!

Get down! Down!

You all right?
Yeah.

Come here.

Sickboy just finished
a stretch for sexual assault.

Got out four days ago.

You didn't waste any time,
did you, big guy?

Come on,
get him out of here.

All right, now,
let's go. Come on.

Looks like we got
our guy, Jordan.

Yeah, there's
only one problem.

Marsha was emailing Sickboy
for three weeks.

Now, unless that guy had a computer
in his cell, he wasn't writing to her.

Someone else was.

Okay, Daryl,

explain to me why you're not
trying to help yourself out here.

Because I spoke
to your warden,

and I know you didn't
have any access to the Net,

so you couldn't have written
those sweet letters to Marsha.

You know, the ones that
said you wanted to kill her.

You know what
a safety word is?

What? No, I don't
know what a...

I'm not talking to you.

Talking to her.

You know what a safety
word is, bitch?

No. Why don't you
tell me,

bitch?

It's a time out.

You give it to her just
before you start to play.

It gets too intense,
she can always stop it.

She can stop it
any time.

Charming. But what does
this have to do with Marsha?

Hers was
"tap dance. "

When I had my hands
around her throat,

I watched her lips

real close.

But she wanted to die.

She only had
to say it once.

If she did, I would have let her go.

Why should I
believe you, Daryl?

Those were the rules.

Whose rules?

The man's rules.

What man?

The man with the plan.
The man who gave her to me.

The man
who was watching.

Anything good on TV,
Mr. Little?

It's a little late to
discuss franchising, isn't it,

Ms. Leveaux,
was it?

It's never too late
to discuss murder,

Sickboy23, was it?

Your online alias.

You wrote out the words and
Daryl acted out the fantasy.

The Internet is a
very confusing place.

It's too much information. You obviously
have gotten lost somewhere along the way.

Maybe.

But a removed
T1 Internet line

leaves an awful big hole
in a hotel room.

You were watching.

That's a very interesting
theory, Ms. Leveaux.

Actually, it's Cavanaugh.

Medical Examiner's Office.

Ha. Well, one might ask why the
police aren't here instead of you.

Gone rogue, have we?

Nope. They're outside,
actually.

I just wanted a little quality
time before they arrest you.

Arrest me for
what, exactly?

Exchanging e-mails with
that woman who wanted to die?

Try putting her in a room
with a convicted criminal

and then watching him
kill her.

They both acted
of their own free will.

I merely facilitated
the process.

Oh, I can hardly wait to hear
you explain that to a jury.

Well, I'll take my chances, because all
I'm guilty of is playing a little Cyrano.

It's still murder.

Satisfying people's darkest
and most personal desires

is what I do, Ms. Cavanaugh.

Now, how can that
be murder?

I don't buy it.
Seriously. I feel better.

You want to know what I think? No.

I think you only are
pretending to feel better.

Oh, really?

I think there's something you
want to get off your chest,

but you're not sure
what it is.

It's an itch
you can't scratch,

and it's
driving you crazy.

Nothing is
driving me crazy.

Do I look crazy?

Oh, definitely.

Look, this itch,
I don't know what it is,

but I suppose
you're gonna tell me.

Now, that wouldn't be
very cathartic, would it?

Well, how am I
supposed to know...

You know, I was looking over the,
uh, photos from the autopsy report.

What?
Brian Kirsh.

I was looking over
the photos you took,

and I recalled your first
impression when they brought him in.

Do you remember
what you told me?

No.
Yes, you do.

I don't remember.

Sneakers.

He was wearing sneakers.

Fresh mud, shoelaces
with one untied.

You know what the weather was
like on the day Brian Kirsh died?

What does that have to do... It was sunny.

Not a cloud in the sky.

So?

You remembered fresh mud on his sneakers,

but there wasn't any mud.

No.

Who was wearing
the muddy sneakers?

I remembered it wrong.
I made a mistake.

No, you didn't.
Who was it?

I don't know.

Who was wearing
the muddy sneakers, Bug?

My brother.

My little brother.

Tell me.

We were the only ones home.

Where were your parents?

They were working.
They were always working.

And it was raining
outside?

No one can watch
a little kid constantly.

It's impossible. I mean,

you can try, but it's impossible
to watch him constantly.

It's always that five minutes
you think that they're watching TV

that they can slip
out the front door.

You don't even think
they'd want to go out,

with it raining so hard.

But then you hear
the horn blast

and the screech of tires
on wet concrete,

And you can feel it.

You know
you made a mistake.

You were just a kid.

He was my responsibility.

You say that,

but you don't mean it.

Whose responsibility
was he, really?

Theirs.

Louder.

Theirs. My parents.

They blamed me.

Why did they do that to me?
I was just a little kid. Why...

Why did they look
at me like that?

Sounds like
a lot of anger,

with no place
to put it.

I bet it would have
felt great

to tell your parents
how unfair it was

to saddle you with
that responsibility.

But you couldn't punish
your own parents,

because grief is an
unpunishable offense.

So I punished
someone else instead.

I'm not supposed to, um,

hug you now, am I?

No.

How about
we just talk?

Why is it that I can
spend days working on a guy

and get nowhere,

and you can mosey on
into a room

and in two minutes
get a confession?

I have a way with the sick and twisted.

Woman has a nice house in the burbs,

successful husband,
good job,

yet she still wants some
stranger to kill her for kicks.

I don't get it.

Why?

There is no why. People
are sick. End of story.

Sweep it under the rug and move on.

Wouldn't it be great if
you actually believed that?

Good night, Doc.

Night, Woody.

I didn't know
you smoked cigars.

I haven't in years, but tonight
I was in the mood for one.

I hope I'm not
interrupting.

No. No. Just...

Just thinking.

I remember the first time I had one of these.

You get to a certain
point in your life,

you've already done
everything for the first time,

nothing's new anymore.

I've already heard
my first blues record,

tasted my first
piece of chocolate,

had my first true love.

I'm allergic
to chocolate.

Violently.
Yeah.

Dr. Macy,
I wanted to...

Apology accepted.

This job,

it's hard sometimes.

Yes, it is.

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