Original subtitles

All aboard!

Do the Fat Tuesday!

Happy Mardi Gras!

Please... please help me.

Back off, buddy.

I got to call my wife.

I got to call...

Please... no.

* Boom, boom, boom, boom

* Bang, bang, bang, bang

* Boom, boom, boom, boom

* How, how, how, how

* Hey, hey

* You gotta come on.

CASSIUS: You know what they do for us here at Mardi Gras?

Nothing.

I mean, there's no king cakes, no festivities.

I tried to convince a couple of guards

to let us build a float down in the yard,

but they wouldn't even hear of it.

They wouldn't even take that to the warden.

It's underwhelming to say the least.

Underwhelming is sort of the point of being incarcerated, no?

Mm.

A little effort's all I'm asking.

You know,

I remember when you were five,

uh, maybe six, and I would take you to the parade,

and I'd put you up on my shoulders

so you could see the floats.

Your mama-- she warned me that you'd had too much to eat

and I'd better set you down.

Well, the next thing I know,

there's this big glob of warm puke sliding...

All right, let's get to it.

Get to what?

The ritual.

I got no idea what you're talking about.

Mardi Gras is six weeks prior

to your annual parole board hearing.

Every year around this time, I come here,

we talk about old times, you bring up my throwing up.

You threw up a lot, Dwayne.

And...

then we get to whether or not I'm gonna write a letter

to the board recommending your release.

That would make a big difference.

You know that.

I mean, people think less of you as my son

and more of you as a man of judgment.

Which is why the answer is still no.

That's fine by me.

No argument?

No pleading your case?

No. I am sanguine.

Work.

Till next time, Cassius.

Laissez les bons temps rouler.

BRODY: Got some beads there?

In your pocket.

Oh, she put those in there.

Sly devil.

Been enjoying my annual Krewe Crawl for the past three weeks.

Krewe De Vieux, Druids, Sparta, King Arthur and Barkus,

then tonight Orpheus.

Yard-Long Hurricanes, endless partying, and, yes, beads.

Oh, so you didn't change your pants?

Three-day-old pants are a hallmark of the season, Brody.

Sounds like a fraternity kegger where everyone overindulges

in cutesy drinks and nipple flashing.

Wasn't always like this.

Early Mardi Gras started in medieval Europe,

processions of men honoring "Le Boeuf Gras."

It's a celebration of the fatted cow.

Far less nipple flashing, I assure you.

Don't be so sure of that,

Miss Loretta.

And on that note.

Deceased is Naval Petty Officer Toussaint Patrice.

WADE: He was discovered by

a street sweeper a couple hours ago.

Died of two puncture wounds-- one to the chest...

...one to the stomach.

Robbery? Not likely.

Still wearing his wedding band, wallet was flush with cash,

broken cell phone on the ground.

NOPD said they spoke to a drunk tourist.

They said he saw Toussaint running from

a man wearing a jester mask.

Said the killer was between five-four and five-nine.

That's quite a range there, King.

Let me emphasize the words "drunk" and then "tourist."

Good point. Lots of cameras.

PRIDE: Have Patton download the Eagle Eye from last night.

Texting him now.

This trail of blood spots indicates

Toussaint was stabbed somewhere else.

Well, if he was partying on St. Charles Street,

then that means...

Clubbing at the Glitter Ball.

Glitter Ball.

Hosted by the Krewe of Yemoja

every year on Bacchus Sunday.

Are you even speaking English?

In order: Bacchus Sunday, Monday is Lundi Gras,

then Fat Tuesday aka Mardi Gras.

You'll get it soon.

Let's lock down the place, canvass everyone inside.

We find who was wearing that jester mask, we find our killer.

Doubt that's gonna work.

Why not?

I see your kegger and raise you

the Greatest Freak Show on Earth.

*

Well, let me know. Sure.

BRODY: Okay, thank you.

Swept every room down here.

No blood found, but I did encounter a number of fluids

that I've decided to let Lasalle investigate.

It's my first Mardi Gras; trying to ease my way in.

LASALLE: Pride, Brody.

Talked to a couple witnesses who were here all night.

Showed them Toussaint's driver's license photo.

Said they saw Toussaint being thrown out of the V.I.P. area

up on the second floor around midnight.

There was some sort of fight.

About? Spilled drink.

This way.

Witnesses said that the guy that Toussaint fought with

was African-American, well dressed and over six feet tall.

That's taller than we heard out on the street.

PRIDE: Huh.

Think I might have found where our victim was first stabbed.

Look like blood?

Yep.

Broken piece of glass.

OFFICER: Agent Pride.

What do you got?

There's a woman downstairs asking after Toussaint.

Think it's his wife. All right, tell her I'll be right down.

Track down the V.I.P. list.

Whoever Toussaint was fighting with is on it.

Run the names.

See who matches the description.

I'll drop the blood and glass

to Loretta and Sebastian.

When he left last night, he...

he said he was going to a meeting.

He'd been acting erratic--

not telling me where he was going, coming home late.

I saw the signs,

I just didn't know what to do.

This...

last place he should've been.

Why?

He'd been sober three years.

This morning,

when I woke up and he wasn't next to me, I looked outside,

saw that his car was gone, I...

used the Cell Locator app.

Led me here.

His car

An old Chevy Impala. Did you find it?

Can I at least have his keys?

I'll track it down.

Didn't have keys on him.

We'll take care of the car.

In the meantime,

I'll have someone take you home. Officer.

Can you give Miss Patrice a ride home, please?

No problem.

What would possess him to come here?

To take a chance being around all this?

WADE: Running a tox screen

on Petty Officer Patrice.

Results won't be ready for another 48 hours,

but it'll tell us if he was on something.

This time of year is hardest on those prone to temptation.

We're all prone to temptation, Dwayne.

That's what makes our species so interesting.

Now that I've been able

to investigate, wounds are from a three- to five-inch blade,

serrated edge.

I sent the measurements to Sebastian.

And the timelines of the stabbings

matches what your witnesses reported.

Time of death was around midnight.

So Petty Officer Patrice meets his killer

at the V.I.P. area.

First attack happens,

he flees, killer follows him into the streets,

finishes him there.

Any updates from Sebastian about the broken piece of glass?

That means "Happy Mardi Gras" in Shyriiwook.

It's the official language of Chewbacca.

Sebastian has been anointed

the Chief Overlord of the Krewe of Chewbacchus.

Second year in a row.

Quite an honor, I'm sure.

You have no idea. It's-it's really huge.

Anyway, uh, in regards to the glass,

I'm still unsure of its origin, but I'll continue to run tests.

I can rule out bottle and wine glass.

It's too fine, plus the bevel's all wrong.

But I used the, uh, measurements

from Toussaint's wounds to determine

that he was stabbed with a Benchmade steel knife.

Keep me posted about the glass.

That means "Will do."

Or "Where's the library?"

I don't know. It's a very subtle language.

Hey, baby girl.

Hi. You're early.

Well, I finished my econ paper last night, so I made sure that

Orion got to physical therapy-- he's doing great by the way.

Good. And then I hopped on the 9:00 a.m. bus.

Are you sure you don't mind if I borrow your car?

Comes with a price.

Where are you off to?

We're supposed to be having

our Pride family bead-necklace-making party,

and from what I hear, it's an exclusive

father-daughter affair. Oh, I'm there. Tonight.

I even brought a new supply of beads as a surprise.

Oh, nice. It's just that

I have a chance to get together with Lundy tonight.

You remember Lundy.

Uh, drummer from your high school jazz band.

We're having a small reunion.

Rhythm section's got to stick together.

Thought she was studying in Europe.

Yeah, she was, but, um, she's back now.

Do you mind if I take these?

I want to look more festive.

Sure.

I'll be back before dinner.

All right.

Bye. Have fun.

Chris. Merri.

Hey, Laurel.

Everything all right?

Double-edged sword being a cop.

You know when people are lying to you.

You got the V.I.P. list?

Sure did.

Owner of the club couldn't have been more helpful.

Just handed it over to us like that, easy-peasy.

Russell Jaynes is the owner of the club--

aka Screwy Douce.

Part-time rapper and used to move bricks

back during my vice days.

BRODY: Matches the description of the man

who was fighting Toussaint--

over six feet, African-American.

They have a past?

LASALLE: Not that we know of, yet.

But we did get a tip from a clubgoer

who swears he saw Screwy Douce

in the V.I.P. bathroom.

He was washing blood off his hands.

PRIDE: 2003, you were accused

of a felonious assault for stabbing a man

in a fit of road rage.

And six months later, you escaped

reckless endangerment charges for stabbing a man

who whistled at your girlfriend.

And then in 2009, you were finally convicted

for stabbing a man for scuffing up your Stacy Adams.

Didn't scuff my Stacy Adams.

Bent my hat brim.

If you're gonna disparage,

at least have the respect to be accurate.

Least we can do, Mr. Douce.

Mr. Douce was the old me.

I've changed.

I'm a businessman now.

Please use the name my mother intended:

Russell.

Okay, Russell, explain to us

how it is that this petty officer

you were seen fighting with was found

stabbed to death in an alley.

This fool was bleeding way before he got to me.

That so?

I was up in V.I.P. hanging with my homies.

I left to get myself a libation.

When I returned,

saw this guy stumbling toward me.

Next thing I know,

he falls, drops his crazy mask,

runs into me, knocked my drink all over me.

I was pissed.

So I cop to roughing him up a bit.

I had to regulate.

Regulate as in...?

Ask politely. Okay.

So, your story:

Petty Officer Patrice

comes down the stairs bleeding,

holding some kind of jester mask in his hand.

Jester mask? No.

After he bumped into me,

he dropped a mask,

but it was a different kind of mask altogether.

What kind of mask?

Dude was carrying a gas mask.

LASALLE: There's no record of a gas mask

found on the scene.

Yeah, well, dude wasn't lying.

I used Toussaint's time of death to narrow down

my search of the Central Business District's

surveillance camera footage and the videos from inside the club.

How'd you get into the Saturn's Feast party

I was stuck outside.

When you roll like I roll, you can get in anywhere. Can we

get back to this club?

They didn't have any cameras.

But you didn't need 'em,

thanks to everybody living their life

so loud and proud on social media.

I isolated every video clip labeled hashtag

Glitter Masquerade Party

on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter.

I built an image timeline

of Toussaint's night-- I call it

the Patton Effect. Humble.

The images are random, because most of the footage

is cut together from the selfie brigade.

It's shocking how people are so into themselves.

They don't even bother to notice there's a murder.

Okay, this is the moment right before Douce of Screwy

crashed into your victim on the stairs.

And as you notice, Petty Officer Patrice

already had bloodstains on his shirt.

Consistent with what we were told.

Based on what you said about the mask,

I zoomed in on his left hand.

Let me enhance this puppy.

BRODY: There.

That's serious. Tactical.

Silicone facepiece.

Mesh harness suspension.

The guy wasn't Screwy-Doucing around.

Hang on.

Lasalle here.

All right, so Toussaint's at a party,

carrying a gas mask.

Any theories?

I have a bondage sex story I could tell you,

but it would probably

be more entertaining

than informative.

That was NOPD.

BOLO got a hit on Toussaint's car.

PRIDE: Keys are still in the ignition.

LASALLE: Looks like somebody dumped it and humped it.

BRODY: I'll check for prints.

Pop the trunk.

Hello.

: Unmarked gas canisters.

With a million and a half tourists in town for Mardi Gras,

it'd be a bad time for something to go boom.

Bomb Squad called an audible.

The gas canisters we found in Toussaint's car

aren't explosive or chemical weapons.

Then, what are they?

Isoflurane.

Anesthetic doctors give

to their patients undergoing surgery.

Toussaint's no doctor.

Also ran the serial numbers

on these canisters-- turns out to be part

of stolen inventory from the Algiers Medical Supply Warehouse

a day before Toussaint was killed.

Drug addicts have been known to steal iso for huffing.

Where's that leave the gas mask?

With the filter on,

it keeps the isoflurane out.

Filter off--

it's the perfect siphon for a huff.

Which could make Toussaint's killer his drug buddy.

Maybe the two got high together,

went on a Mardi Gras binge.

Ended up in Screwy Douce's club,

something goes wrong and there's a fight.

Drug buddy stabs him and steals his car.

But the quantity of canisters

found in the trunk of Toussaint's car--

excessive for a user.

And dangerous-- people could be killed

via sedation if all those canisters are opened at once.

Maybe they planned to sell.

Isoflurane can bring

a pretty penny on the black market.

Head over to the Algiers Medical Supply Warehouse.

See if you can find out more about the robbery.

I'll go talk to Toussaint's wife.

Maybe he picked up a new friend with his new behavior.

Toussaint and I were trying to start a family.

Oh. We should have been shopping for baby cribs this year.

But instead I'll be shopping

for my husband's coffin.

I'm sorry to ask, but, uh...

is there a chance your husband might've relapsed?

We had a hard year.

Meaning?

With me being unemployed and...

Toussaint's telemarketing job not bringing in much,

we fell behind.

One of the reasons we'd put a pin in starting our family.

Was there anybody Toussaint was...

hanging out with, new?

Sketchy?

I wouldn't say "sketchy," but...

if you're talking about potential influences...

Toussaint started volunteering at a sober living facility.

Sober living?

My husband served three tours in Iraq.

He came back home numb, distant.

Found a release in his addiction.

But he turned his life around, he fought his way back to me,

and he wanted to be of service to others just like him.

From being of service to...

serving up drugs...

I guess people never really do change, do they, Agent Pride?

There's always hope.

Said they'd send a patrol out to investigate my break-in,

but they never did. Well, it's the season, ma'am.

Everybody's got their hands full.

Thieves broke in here.

Looks like they used a crowbar.

Got away with one carton of isoflurane.

Just the isoflurane?

Mm-hmm. And they skipped right on past the oxycodone

and all the good stuff to get to it.

Not the same high as the others, but it would still command

a few grand on the black market. Cameras catch

the break Did, but it ain't

gonna be much help-- robber was wearing a hoodie.

We'd still like to take a peek, if you don't mind.

Whatever's clever.

My office is this way.

I'll tell you this,

whoever he is been very busy.

My competitor, First Charity Medical Supply,

got robbed of three boxes of isoflurane just last night.

O-Okay, Chris, just check out that other isoflurane robbery.

LASALLE: I'll get on it, King.

See what you can run down, okay?

All right, you about done there tonight?

No, I got a...

I got an interrogation I got to take care of here.

Got you.

So, I started another strand. I'm thinking

maybe we can use the red beads

in combination with the little glass yellow ones.

We need to talk.

About?

Why you're really here.

Now, I considered the possibilities

that you...

dropped out of school,

you and Orion eloped, or...

maybe I'd have to kill Orion because he got you...

: Dad, I'm not pregnant.

I know.

First...

this thread from your sweater.

Typically,

you tug on your clothing

when you have an increased level of anxiety.

Next, the overextended mileage on my odometer

tells me that...

you went 20 miles...

each way on your...

"trip with Lundy,"

even though she lives...

right in the Quarter.

This... is insane.

You're checking the mileage on your vehicle.

And finally...

...the red bead necklace that you're wearing.

One you've never noticed before.

My father's favorite.

How long have you and Cassius been communicating?

I want my lawyer?

Doesn't work that way.

Not with fathers and daughters.

I found him using the Offender Locator Web site

for Gretna a few years ago.

And at first we just started writing to each other,

but then that graduated to telephone calls,

and then... last year I went to see him for the first time.

And you kept this from me? Because I knew you were gonna react like this!

Ever since I was a little girl,

you always told me these funny stories about Grandpa,

but you never once took me to see him.

You were a little girl! Which I'm not anymore.

Laurel... Daddy, you're a respected cop--

a letter from you would make all the difference

in a parole hearing. He's hocking you for the letter?

You always told me to look for the best in people, right?

To forgive?

Well, why can't you forgive him?

It's not that simple.

Daddy... Laurel,

this is for your own good.

You are not to write him,

call him, you are not to visit him in prison again.

Am I making myself clear?

I'm sorry.

It doesn't work like that

between fathers and adult daughters.

SEBASTIAN: No, man, you're missing the point entirely.

PATTON: While you were chanting "Chewbacchus,"

I was screaming "Boobs-shocka-locka."

What are you two arguing about now?

Patton was kicked off the Intergalactic Krewe

of Chewbacchus last year for wearing an elf shirt...

Permissible cyborg elf shirt.

You can't just wrap your arm in tin foil

and claim that you're a cyborg. Point is moot.

Chewbacchus ain't got nothing on the Red Beads and Rice Krewe

or the Krewe of Beyoncé.

SEBASTIAN: This is our Berlin Wall,

and you're standing on the east side-- that makes you

and Beyoncé Communists, so...

Please, someone, save me from this madness.

Well, all right, here we go.

So, all that was visible from the supply warehouse surveillance

was the intruder's hand.

But sometimes a hand's all you need.

We took an image of Toussaint's killer's hand

from the alley surveillance footage to compare.

SEBASTIAN: Yeah, FBI has

a, uh, Vascular Mapping Program.

It uses vein patterns as a biometric trait for identification.

So, by applying an Oriented Gradient Map

to the killer's and the burglar's hands, they match.

We take the vein patterns and the coriums

and feed them into the FBI's database, and...

SEBASTIAN: Cowabunga--

there's your burglar.

Cyd Lawson, released from Gretna State Prison

last October after serving ten years

for bank robbery.

You got that list of people Petty Officer Patrice

is working with at the sober living facility?

He's on it.

: I'll get Cyd's last known address.

I'm calling Pride.

: I'm going in.

LASALLE : Copy.

I'm at the side door.

BRODY: I'm at the back.

NCIS. Open up.

: Hey, Pride.

Meth lab.

Knife!

MAN: Stay back.

Stay back! PRIDE: Cyd, put the knife down.

You come near me, I'll cut you!

Put down the knife, Cyd.

It's not my fault.

They made me kill him.

They?

Who's "they," Cyd?

: Mm-mm. I can't tell.

I can't tell.

Oh, hey.

Cyd, stay with me, buddy. Stay with me.

What was Toussaint gonna snitch on?

Cyd. Cyd.

The isoflurane?

Come on, Cyd.

The heist...

tomorrow...

Mardi...

He's gone.

Did he say "heist"?

On Mardi Gras?

Official start of the big day.

Clock is ticking.

WADE: The cause of death for Cyd Lawson was a stroke.

Likely caused by a crystal meth-induced

heart arrhythmia.

From an O.D.?

Based on track marks, Mr. Lawson

injected a significant amount of the drug into his system.

Most users prefer to smoke it, because injection

raises the possibility of an overdose exponentially.

Are you saying the O.D. was intentional?

I'm saying Mr. Lawson, as an experienced drug user,

would have known better. He said that

they made him kill Toussaint.

The knife you found with him matches the murder weapon.

So... possible. Thank you, Loretta.

Followed up on that second isoflurane robbery.

Owner says three boxes were stolen.

That's 27 canisters, King--

enough to kill a couple hundred people.

So, if what Cyd was saying is true-- a heist

on Mardi Gras,

NOPD's stretched to the limit--

perfect time to steal something in plain sight.

Possible targets: casinos, banks,

strip clubs... Any idea who Cyd was working with?

I had Patton dump Cyd's phone.

His "friends" is a motley crew of violent criminals.

Ian Knox, Marv Williams, and Randy James.

Ian Knox

was convicted too many times to count on robbery.

James, he's partial

to home invasions.

Marv Williams?

He's the likely mastermind

of the pack.

Convicted of manslaughter

and robbery.

Know where to find these Boy Scouts?

No cell phone usage,

credit card movements,

and their last known addresses are post office boxes.

I put out a BOLO. Sebastian.

Got an update on that piece of glass we found at the crime scene.

All right, you grab Brody...

follow up over there.

I'm gonna head to Gretna,

have a talk with one of...

Marv's cell block buddies.

CASSIUS: Twice in one week?

To what do I owe the extra attention?

Marv Williams.

He was on your cell block. Any contact with him?

Of course.

What can you tell me?

Plenty.

Okay, what can you tell me

about what he might steal today,

Mardi Gras?

Today, huh?

It seems like we have arrived

at one of those mutual back-scratching scenarios.

Answer's still no.

Okay, then.

Guard,

time to go.

You leave now...

I'll make sure you never

see Laurel again.

Uh, one more minute, actually.

It doesn't work that way, Dwayne.

Kids grow up, they have a mind of their own.

Suddenly, they do what they want,

regardless of their father's wishes.

And regardless of who I am to you,

I am still her grandpapa.

'Cause I chose which stories to tell her

and which ones to leave out.

I can fill in the details,

regale her with darker tales...

about the envelopes of money delivered to our house,

or the many women who were not her grandmother...

All right, your mother and I,

we had an arrangement.

Which would explain her nervous breakdown.

And why she had to move halfway around the globe

to get away from you. You ungrateful, spoiled...

Or how about I tell her my most vivid Mardi Gras memory,

where a king cake was delivered to our house,

and the prize inside-- a severed finger. Good times.

You think she'll still think of you as her grandpapa once she knows that?

Now, you may not believe this...

but the reason I won't write you a letter

is 'cause I'm convinced that this is the only place

I can keep you where you'll be safe from yourself.

And now I'm done.

Dwayne. Wait. Wait.

If I was a betting man,

I'd say what you're looking for is jewels.

The piece of glass?

It's from a broken telephoto smartphone lens,

similar to this one.

It provides the viewer with 15 times the power of zoom,

all while coming from a device that fits

conveniently into your pocket. So looking at a distance

without appearing too conspicuous.

So Toussaint found out

Cyd was up to something,

tracked him down at the club... Cyd was there,

telephoto lens...

Scouting a potential heist. Could be.

How do you say "great job" in Wookie?

Yeah. That.

*

BRODY: So, let's say Toussaint is in on this heist.

Possibly wanted out, got cold feet.

He goes from loving husband and potential father

to fallen addict and jewel thief?

Happy Mardi Gras, Ms. Patrice.

What do you see?

Those two lofts over there,

that's where the Krewe of Rex

and the Krewe of Comus

showcase their gowns and scepters

at preview balls.

No expensive jewelry there.

What about that building? Mystic Krewe

of Shangri-La Social Club-- they hold their

St. Charles gala luncheon at a meeting center.

Again, no significant jewelry there?

Nope.

But across the street, dead ahead...

at the Board of Trade,

the Wiley Museum of Southern Art

holds their "Get on the Good Foot" gala fund-raiser.

Old money.

Guests wearing their Sunday best

and estate jewelry.

Let's gear up.

We're gonna need gas masks.

*

That's a beautiful necklace you're wearing.

Thank you.

Let's go.

*

All right, I got the front.

Brody, take the back. Christopher...

I got the side. Right. Talk to me.

You got it.

*

King, I'm in.

I'm in position.

Yeah, I need several EMT trucks at the Board of Trade.

We got people down. Let's move.

Whoo! Come here.

Come on, come on. Please.

Easy. I'm gonna drop my weapon.

Move, move!

Got your punk ass.

BRODY: Stay down!

NCIS.

Party's over.

You all right? Yes, ma'am. Thank you.

You all right, Chris?

Isoflurane. Some potent stuff.

Merideth Brody,

I feel fantastic.

I got to tell you, no buzz like this on my Krewe Crawl.

Okay, all right,

ca-calm, calm down.

This is the first one that you and Daddy made together, right?

It is.

He was four.

Do you want to put it on?

Oh, I'd like to, but, uh, you know...

Oh, yeah. Sorry.

: I forgot. So you're going

back to school tomorrow?

Yeah. I have an exam on Friday.

And then you'll write again?

Write?

Me.

Like

That's... complicated.

Daddy?

Where are we leaving this, Dwayne?

Laurel, I think it's time I told you a story about

your grandfather. Dwayne...

When I was five...

maybe six...

your grandpop took me to the parade...

put me up on his shoulders.

So you could see the floats.

: And you threw up all over him.

I know this one. What I don't think I ever told you was...

he barely took a moment to clean off.

He put me down,

he didn't get mad, and then...

right back up on his shoulders.

Made sure I didn't miss a single float.

Tell the one about...

the time they asked you

to be Rex,

the King of Carnival. Oh.

Yeah, it was... it was 1986.

Gary Rome nominated me to be the King.

Now, that was a big surprise,

because I wasn't even a member of one of the Krewes.

But they were trying to lure me in.

There were lots of guys who were members of the Krewes

back in those days who wanted to be associated

with Cassius Pride.

*

This is as it should be--

family coming together on Mardi Gras

to enjoy and celebrate!

So, I pulled some strings,

and I got you reinstated.

Here's an official T-shirt of the Intergalactic Krewe

of Chewbacchus.

Go on, take it.

Don't mention it.

Captioning sponsored by CBS

And VOLKSWAGEN.

Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org

Uh-oh.