All language subtitles for Law and orer S12E05 - Possession

NARRATOR:
In the criminal justice system

the people are represented
by two separate
yet equally important groups,

the police
who investigate crime

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

Once she checks out,
you sign and
date the certificate,

and then slide it back
into the housing.

Hey, this guy
T. D'Alesandro signed this
10 years in a row.

The Cal Ripken of
elevator inspectors.

They put him out
to pasture in '97.

She looks okay.

Yeah, uh, she don't.

Elevator inspectors
found her first thing
this morning,

but CSU thinks
she's been laying
out here since last night.

Homeless woman?

No, Virginia Boone.
That's her apartment.

Her keys are on the floor
I guess she was
on her way in.

Robbery?

Nah. Her purse is
still in the cart.

So the guy sees
the Barneys bags,

figures she's loaded,
and follows her in.

ED: I don't know
about loaded.

These bags look like
they've been around
the block a couple times.

There's a three-month old
New Republic,

a Minnie Riperton
eight-track, used
tape dispenser.

These bags are
full of this junk.

Looks like some kind of
knife attack.

There's defensive
wounds on her hands,
big damages to the chest.

I'll tell you this,
the way she's dressed,

she wasn't shopping
on this street.

Yeah. Still,
nice neighborhood like this,

they could at least
cover her with a duvet.

BRISCOE: You been
a super here long?

Years.

ED: How many?

I don't know,
really. Years.

My grandmother had
an apartment like this.

Only it was on Delancey,
not Madison.

This is the penthouse.

Yeah, obviously. Too bad
she kept it like this.

HAVEL: Yes, it was a shame.
But she had her own way
of doing things.

So, you knew her
pretty well?

No, not well.

There any relatives
we can get in contact with?

There was a son.
He lives in Europe somewhere.

Did you hear anything
last night, Mr. Havel?

I live downstairs.

Well, thanks for
letting us in.

Uh, we'll be in touch.

You got something
on your mind?

She didn't like anyone
going through her things.

Well, we're not
just anyone.

And, uh, I doubt if
she'd mind much now.

Have a good day.

Charming gentlemen.

Nothing yet on the canvas,

but the lady who owns
the shop downstairs
just opened up.

Thanks.

I just can't fathom it.

Virginia's lived
in the building
since 1969, I think.

Do you have much contact
with the tenants upstairs?

I own the building.
I live on the fourth floor.

BRISCOE: What time did
you get home last night?

I stayed in the shop
to finish some
bridesmaids dresses

that had to be ready
for the weekend.

I didn't leave here
until about 9:00.

You both were here, also?

They work for me.

Did you see
anybody unusual
go into the building,

or hear anything
from up there?

TAYLOR: No, I didn't.

How about you ladies?
Did you hear anything?

FONG: No.

Can you think of any reason
why someone would
hurt Miss Boone?

I thought
it was a mugging.

Maybe.

Sometimes Virginia
would forget to make sure

that the front door
was locked.

I told her about it
a thousand times.

The cleaning man,
maybe he hear something.

ED: Does he work late?

Sometimes.

BRISCOE: Where
can we find him?

Roberto takes care
of some of
the other buildings

in the neighborhood.

(MACHINE WHIRRING)
Mr. Ramos. Mr. Ramos!

Can you tell us
where you were
last night, sir?

Working.
Where?

Uh, 832 Madison.

Until what time?

Uh, I leave around 8:30.

Do you have a key
to the place?

Yes. Miss Taylor,
she give it to me.

Did something happen
in the building?

A woman was killed.
A Virginia Boone.
You know her?

I don't know who lives there
I'm just the janitor.

ED: Well, did you see
anybody hanging around
the building yesterday?

I mean, somebody
that didn't belong?

I think I see a man waiting
outside when I was leaving.

Well, what did he look like?

I mean, was he
black, white, young, old?

White, not so old.

That's all I remember.

BRISCOE: What as he wearing?

I don't remember.

Well, if you do,
give us a call, huh?

The M.E. puts time of death
between 8:30 and 10:30.

Well, it's a little strange
that no one found her
until the next morning.

Ain't the only thing
that's a little
strange over there.

Yeah, the super's
straight out of
the Addams Family,

and the lady
who owns the place

has a very pronounced
pole up her ass.

And I'm sure that
the two of you were
on your best behavior.

There's no sign of
breaking into the building,

and the vic
still had her purse.
The money was inside.

So, maybe it's personal.
Is she married?

BRISCOE: Well, the super
remembers a son,

but he's living
in Europe someplace.

Anything turn up
in our canvass?

Nobody answers
in her building yet.

People on the block
remember seeing her

taking her cart full of junk
into the building,

but other than that,
she pretty much
stayed to herself,

didn't even own a TV set.

Hmm. Imagine that.
Is she retired,
or living on an inheritance?

We checked
the city tax records.

She was a school
cafeteria worker
for 31 years.

So, a lady in hairnets,

dishing out meatloaf
and canned peaches by day,

and living in
an Upper East Side
penthouse by night?

ED: Yeah.
The place was a dump.

Well, a dump on Madison's
six grand a month.

Well, she's been
living there
for a long time,

so maybe the apartment
was rent-controlled.

You up for
some meatloaf and
canned peaches?

You didn't wanna
get in her bad side,
I can tell you that.

Hmm! She caught a kid
cutting the line,

she'd come from
behind the counter
and lay into him.

We were given the impression
she was the quiet type.

Virginia?

She had a lot of
righteous anger
in her, that one.

I admired her for it,
especially at her age.

She took everything
so personally.

She'd get a rent
increase for $10

and she'd go off about
capitalist bloodsuckers
and whatnot.

(LAUGHING)
We used to laugh,
but then I would say,

"Virginia, relax.
You're gonna give
yourself a stroke."

And it's not like
she couldn't afford it.

What? She had money?

Oh, yeah. She used to
lend me a few bucks
whenever I was short.

It was more than a few bucks.

Remember that man
in her building?

What man?

Uh, her janitor,

told Virginia how
he's working three jobs
to support his kids.

So, one day
she says to me,

"I've got some money.
I'm gonna give him $5,000."

As far as I know, she did.

Thank you, ladies.

$5,000, and this janitor
can't remember who
lives in the apartment?

It's a ritzy
neighborhood,

but I don't think
his Christmas tips
are that good.

(EXHALES) Time of death
was between 8:30 and 10:30.

He said he worked
until 8:30, and he has
a key to the place.

Yeah, which would explain
why he might steer us

to some
"not so old white guy"
he can't remember.

Something tells me
he's not gonna
give us that call.

Why don't we pay him
a little surprise visit?

Where's your husband,
Mrs. Ramos?

At his job.

We just came from his job.

They said he had
to rush home for
a family emergency.

Was there some
sort of emergency here,
Mrs. Ramos?

What do you want?

Where is he,
Mrs. Ramos?

He's no here.

When will he be back?

I don't know.

He ran away, didn't he?

No, he...

ED: Did he say anything
about Virginia Boone?

Miss Virginia is
very, very kind.

In this house
she is a saint.

Well, now, it's official,
because somebody killed her.

(EXCLAIMING IN SPANISH)

Mrs. Ramos, if you know
where your husband is,

would you please
give him a call
and tell him that

avoiding the police
is only gonna
make things worse.

She'll call him within
the next five minutes.

Yeah. We get Cordova
working on the IUDs,

we'll have an address
by the end of the day.

MAN: Yeah?

It's Lennie.
Lennie?

Yeah, Lennie. Open up.

Detective Lennie.

Hey, you can't just
come in here like that.

Where's Roberto?
Who?

All right. Easy, pal.

No problem! No problem!

What's the knife for?

Uh, for my job.
I have to break down
a lot of boxes

for the recycling.

There could be
a little dried blood
in the hinge.

Yeah, from the recycling.

Why'd you run
from us, Roberto?

L 901 no papers.

We're not looking
to deport you, man.

We're just trying
to help out
a friend of yours.

What friend?
Virginia Boone.

Why'd you tell us
you didn't know her?

Miss Taylor, she tell me
I don't talk to the tenants.

You didn't have to
talk to her to stick
a knife in her ribs.

I have nothing
to do with that!

Then maybe you can
explain where you were

8:30-9:00 the night
she was killed.

I walk home
from work that night.

ED: Did anybody see you?

I don't know.

So what happened, Roberto?
5,000 bucks wasn't enough?

Miss Virginia was
very good to me
and my family.

Very generous.

Then do the right thing
by her, man.

Tell us what happened.

I mean, were you
holding her up
for more money?

Miss Virginia,
she gave to me the money.

I told her it was too much,
but she say,

"Please, Roberto,
you must take it.
I have very much more."

And then, you stuck
a knife in her

because she wouldn't
make another donation.

I did not kill this woman!
I cry for her.

We got your knife, pal.

Now, you may think
you washed
all the blood off it,

but trust me,
we're gonna find it.

Negative.
You got skunked.

So what's the brow stuff
in the hinge?

Your murderer used it
to cut a chocolate bar.

Maybe a brownie.

The guy's a janitor.

Would ammonia or bleach
get rid of the blood?

Look, give it up, guys.
That knife is not
your murder weapon.

It's hard to tell anything
from these defensive
wounds on her hands.

But the fatal wound
in her chest
is pretty ragged.

And?

Well, the weapon
that inflicted it is
at least four-inches long,

like your chocoholic's,

but it's thicker
than a knife blade,

maybe a quarter of an inch.
And blunter.

So, what are you thinking?

Gardening tool,
pair of scissors.

Lennie.

Thanks.

Excuse me.

Would you mind if I looked
at those for a minute?

Thanks.

Quarter of an inch thick,
blunt end.

What do you call these?

Pinking shear.

I'm not gonna ask
what pinking is.

You wouldn't happen
to know if any of those
are missing, would you?

You have to ask Miss Taylor.

Where can we find her?

Upstairs.

It's kind of weird here.

Sure is quiet.

Yeah, it's quiet,
there's no trash cans,

there's no newspapers,
no doormats, no mail.

You hear that echo?

Yeah, it sounds empty.

Huh.

They're all empty.

Good thing.

I don't think I could stand
meeting many more of
the tenants in this place.

That lady must sell
a lot of dresses.

Miss Taylor!

Oh! You scared me.

BRISCOE: What are you doing
in the victim's apartment?

She owed me rent.

So, what?
You're scavenging
for loose change?

Nine months' rent.

So, you sneak into
a dead woman's apartment?

How else was I gonna collect
what was owed to me?

What makes you think
she had money here?

She had money somewhere.

She just liked
to string me along.

You might've told us
she was in debt to you
the first time we talked.

I did not kill her,

if that's where
your suspicious
police mind is going.

If you don't want
to arouse suspicion,

you shouldn't be
breaking into your
tenants' apartments.

And besides,

a proper lady like yourself,
it really doesn't become you.

I thought you liked
the janitor.

Nice, no arrests,
married, steady worker.

Virginia Boone
gave him $5,000,

so there's no real motive,
and the knife don't fit.

Well, another thing
that doesn't fit is

where a cafeteria worker
came up with five grand.

Some kind of socialist
redistribution program.

She was stiffing
the landlady for the rent,

and giving it
to the downtrodden.

The landlady
seemed to think
she had some cash

stashed in her apartment.

Well, could this
all be a rent dispute?

Sounds a little
run of the mill
for these flakes.

Taylor never told us
that Boone owed her money

the first time
we talked to her.

Well, how much rent
are we talking about?

Well, she says
nine months.

But I don't think
we can get a straight
answer out of this lady.

Hey, there's
a big difference

if the place was
rent-controlled,

or if she was paying
the going rate.

Well, you know,
if money is the motive,

it'd be nice to know
how much. All right?

(PHONE RINGING)

832 Madison,
it's a six-story
pre-war, 12 units.

Owned by
Calera Corporation.

Is there a tenant
named Virginia Boone
in your books?

Virginia Boone.

She's occupied
Apartment 6A since 1969.

That means that
she's covered
by rent control,

'cause '70 is the cutoff.

So, what did she pay?

Whoa, baby,
362 a month.

Damn.

Maybe I'm her
long-lost nephew.

What's full market
for a three bedroom
in that neighborhood?

Six, eight thousand,
depending on size
and condition.

So, Virginia Boone
was costing her
50, 60 grand a year.

We noticed a lot of
vacant apartments
in that building.

According to our records,
it's fully occupied.

Yeah, by a family of mice.

So, why the discrepancy?

Probably warehousing.

Clearing a building of tenants

so the sale would go
more easily.

And if Boone was
the only tenant,

and the landlady
wanted to sell...

Tenants sometimes
get paid off to vacate.

An owner willing to fork over

a chunk of change
usually gets her way.

Unless the tenant was
stringing her along.

Now, would a transaction
like this be handled
face to face?

Owners usually have
a managing agent,

and they handle
the negotiation.

If this information's
up to date,

the agent is
First Class Realty.

I'm the building manager
and all-around
troubleshooter.

Not much trouble
managing a building
with virtually no tenants.

You obviously
haven't met
Miss Taylor.

Actually, we have.

I've been working for her
for 12 years.

Helping her
warehouse apartments.

I told her
I don't want to know
anything about that.

I basically just
help her out
with the insurance,

code inspections,
litigation...

What kind of litigation?

Evictions, mostly.

Because Miss Taylor
was forcing tenants out,

so she could
sell the building?

No. These were
a few years back,
for non-payment.

So, you never personally
handled any negotiations

between your client
and Virginia Boone?

No.

ED: What's the building
worth, Mr. Braden?

Now that there's
no impediment to sale,
maybe 10 million.

The last impediment
being Virginia Boone?

Was there any
bad blood between them?

Seemed like every
other month Martha was
over at Housing Court

taking care of some
frivolous complaint

the Boone woman dreamed up.

What's frivolous when
you're paying $300 a month

might not be so frivolous
when you're paying 6,000.

I'm not following you,
Detective.

I'm just saying
that maybe Taylor was

pushing this woman out of
the building by degree.

I wouldn't know. She handled
the Boone woman personally.

We're Detectives
Briscoe and Green,

we called about
832 Madison.

Copy machine's
over there.

Gotta be 100 pages here.

Better get a roll of quarters.

Hey, restraining orders
going back to 1974.

"Landlord complains
that tenant harassed her

"by leaving a stale cake
and used tea bags
outside her door."

Oh, send in the SWAT team.

"Tenant alleges
that landlord illegally
enters her apartment

"and takes personal items
including, but not limited to,

"lingerie, scotch bottles,
and feminine
hygiene products."

It's fascinating reading,
but it's not gonna
get us a warrant.

"Tenant claims landlord
pushed her down
a flight of stairs."

When was this?

Two weeks ago.
It goes on...

"Landlord has engaged
in a 30-year campaign
to get rid of me."

Hmm.

Aubergine's a bit desperate
for springtime, darling,
but whatever you think.

Now what?

Now, we get to
rummage through
your underwear.

Is it about that
poor tenant of yours?

Libby, please.

We'll start by gathering up
your pinking shears.

How am I supposed to
run my business?

Oh, and, uh,
after we take
a look around here,

we're gonna need to
get into your apartment.

This is outrageous!

I know. But still...

A lot classier wardrobe
than Virginia Boone's.

What? No
Salvation Army gear?

No. No obvious
bloodstains, either.

Whatever she was wearing,
she probably tossed already.

You know, sometimes
they forget the shoes.

You're not going to
take those, are you?

Oh, don't worry,
we'll get 'em back to you.

After you've ruined them.

Hey, we're not
gonna wear them.

ED: Hey, Miss Taylor,

these tenant receipts,
is this all of them?

You expect me to do
your job for you,
is that it?

Unless you'd rather us
rip your place apart.

Look, this is really
a terrible imposition.
It's intrusive.

I would rather
you did not touch
my personal belongings

any more than is
absolutely necessary.

Getting pushed
down the stairs or
stabbed in the chest

also qualifies
as an imposition.

If I were you,
I'd keep quiet

before we haul all of
your personal belongings
out in the Persian rug.

I don't think a garment bag
full of shoes qualifies
as an imposition.

To her, everything's
an imposition.

Officer?
Yes, ma'am?

Every morning,

I take newspaper
out of garbage
in front of building.

What I care
if newspaper
is day old?

Yeah?

Please don't tell anyone
I talk to you.

Yeah. What is it?

This morning,
I take newspaper
out of garbage...

Pinking shears.

And I don't think
that's chocolate.

Did you see who
put that newspaper
in the garbage?

Not today,
but every day,
Miss Taylor.

I thought you were leaving.

We are. (CLEARS THROAT)
The bad news is,
you're leaving with us.

You're under arrest
for the murder
of Virginia Boone.

You have the right
to remain silent,

anything you say can be
used against you...

Docket ending 716,
People v. Martha Taylor.

Defendant is
charged with Murder
in the Second Degree.

(CHUCKLES) Death
by pinking shears, eh?

The defendant
owns a dress shop
at the place of occurrence.

Judge, my client's
lived in the community
her entire life,

she is a tax-paying
business owner
and landlord.

With a history of
harassing the victim,
who was also her tenant.

There have been
cross-complaints
for 30 years

without anyone
winding up dead.

And there's absolutely
no evidence linking
my client to the crime.

Except the forensics
indicating her prints
on the murder weapon.

Yeah. Well, of course,
her prints were
on the shears.

She owned the dress shop.

People request remand.

PAULSON: And my client
wants to testify
in the Grand Jury.

Defense is serving
cross-Grand Jury notice.

Cross-complaints,
cross-Grand Jury notice...

(CHUCKLING)
As much as this amuses me,

the conveyor belt awaits.

Bail will be set
at $500,000.

This goes to Part F,
for Grand Jury action.

(BANGS GAVEL)

Are you really gonna
have her testify,

or were you just
trying to influence
the judge on bail?

Notice says testify,
Ms. Southerlyn.

Well, if she's has
a believable story,

let's set up a proper look
into what she has to say.

Yeah, I'm sure you'd be
completely objective.

Sorry. We'll take our shot
with the Grand Jury.

$362 a month
for three bedrooms?

I'd kill
for that apartment.

Well, the motive
probably wasn't
the woman's rent.

If she could empty
the building,
she could sell it.

But why now? They've
been at each others'
throats for 30 years.

Market's taken a downturn.
Maybe she doesn't wanna
wait until prices bottom out.

So, what's she gonna say
to the Grand Jury?

That's a good question.
Defense counsel's
not showing her cards.

But here's the weird thing,
Taylor hasn't made bail yet.

Why not put
her building up
for collateral?

Is it worth
what we think it is?

I talked to two appraisers.

They both put it
at the 10 to 12
million dollar range.

Liens, mortgages?

The property
registry indicates

it's owned free and clear
by the Calera Corporation.

And she's the sole
shareholder?

Maybe somebody
with joint ownership

is blocking Taylor
from using
the building for bail.

And if somebody else
owns a piece of it,

somebody else has a motive.

Okay. I'll call Albany
and get a list of the
corporation's stockholders.

Why didn't you
tell the police

you owned half
the building,
Mr. Havel?

It never came up.

When did Miss Taylor
sell it to you?

Our father deeded it to us.

Martha Taylor
is your sister?

Miss Taylor is
my father's daughter.

So, she's your half-sister
or stepsister?

No.

Is there some kind of
bad blood between
the two of you?

There's no blood at all,
as far as I'm concerned.

Is that why you
won't consent to put
the building up for bail?

Well, Miss Taylor has
never asked for my help.

And you never offered.

I haven't talked
to her in 26 years.

Well, do you mind
if I ask why?

I just haven't.

Not even to discuss
selling the building?

This building
is a living being.

The floor joists
are the skeleton,

the pipes the arteries,

the wires the nerves.

I know the layout
of every apartment,

I can disassemble every piece
of plumbing in my sleep.

Well, it sounds like
you'd be reluctant
to put it on the market.

If Miss Taylor
killed that woman,

I hope she pays
the consequences.

SERENA: There is some
strange karma going on
in that building, Jack.

The landlady
and her tenant

have been at
each others' throats
for the past 30 years.

And brother and sister
live in the same building
and don't speak.

Any chance the brother
could be in on it?

Well, maybe I wasn't clear.

They haven't said
a single word to each other
in 20-some years.

How can you have
a conspiracy if you
can't have a conversation?

Money heals all wounds.

Havel's interest
in the building
goes deeper than money.

And my guess is,
if he had something

incriminating to say
about his sister,

he'd be happy
to share it with us.

Did he shed
any light on Taylor's
Grand Jury strategy?

No. I still can't get a read
on why she's testifying.

Could be
she's jockeying for

a manslaughter indictment
instead of murder.

You don't sound too worried.

Doesn't sound like
there's anything
pointing to self-defense.

Her scissors,
no reciprocal injuries
the cops are aware of.

And there was a long history
of harassment and animosity
toward the victim.

So, we're making this
all about the rent?

No. It goes deeper.

Boone was an old lefty,
thumbing her nose
at her bourgeois landlady,

paying a few
hundred bucks rent

and hauling her
into Housing Court
at the drop of a hat.

And Taylor did
her best to torture
the woman right back.

Class warfare
on the Upper East Side.

So, we go forward
with the presentation?

We get an indictment now,

we can avoid a 188 release.

Keep her in jail.

I did not like
Virginia Boone,
I'll admit that.

In fact, you fought
a lot, didn't you?

Yes, we did.
But I didn't kill her.

Did you push Miss Boone
down the stairs
two weeks ago, Ms. Taylor?

No, no, I didn't.
She fell.

She was a drunk.
And I prefer Miss Taylor.

So, it's your
testimony she fell?

Yes.

Unfortunately,
she's not around
for us to ask, is she?

Objection.

There's no one
to object to,
Ms. Paulson,

this is a Grand Jury
proceeding.

Well, I'm not just
going to sit here

and let you
badger my client.

Then, I'm gonna have
to ask you to leave.

I'm entitled to be here.

Not if you disrupt
the proceedings.

You said you
and Miss Boone fought?

TAYLOR: Yes.

These are canceled
rent checks written to you

by Miss Boone
over the past 20 years.

On the back of each of them
is a list of her complaints,

things you allegedly stole,
or moved, or used

while you sneaked
into her apartment.

They're the rantings
of a delusional woman.

In fact, she filed
37 complaints against you
in Housing Court, didn't she?

They were nuisance complaints.
It was hard to keep track.

So, pushing her
down the stairs
qualifies as a nuisance?

Can I say something?

SERENA: No, you have to
wait for a question.

No, it's...
It's just that...

I couldn't have killed her.

It's impossible,
I'm not physically capable.

I'm right-handed.

Five years ago,
I had a stroke.

It took me six months
to get back any movement
at all in my right arm.

But I never...
I never regained
full function of my hand

I have a hard time
gripping things.

You run a dress shop,
don't you?

Yes, I do.
Do you pay the bills?

Yes.
You sign the checks?

(SCOFFS) Well,
I can hold a pen loosely.

Well, your fingerprints
are on the murder weapon,
so you can hold that.

Well, they must have been
taken from my dress shop.

I'm sure I had occasion
to touch them.

SERENA: In fact,
you had occasion

to wrap them in
the daily news and throw
them in the trash can.

No, I didn't do that.

Every day you throw
the newspaper away,
Miss Taylor...

Yes, but...
And on the one day

it turns out to be wrapped
around the murder weapon,
it wasn't you?

I did not throw those
shears in the trash.
I don't know who did.

At this time,
Miss Taylor requests

that the Grand Jury
call the medical examiner

to present evidence about
Virginia Boone's wounds.

She also requests
that the Grand Jury
call her doctor

to provide medical testimony
about her physical condition.

Are you finished,
Ms. Paulson?

Yes, I am.

Well, then I'm sure
the Grand Jury will take
your request under advisement.

What did the M.E. say
about the fatal wound?

Consistent with
somebody right-handed.

Enough force was used
to plunge the sheers
in four inches.

And Taylor's doctor?

Confirms the stroke.

He claims
she had trouble
gripping things.

What do you think?

Well, Taylor couldn't explain
who threw the shears away,

and who knows what
she's capable of gripping

when her adrenaline
is spiked.

So, the issue is
not black and white.

Yeah. We could run it
by our own medical expert.

That'd take time.

Taylor would be released
pending Grand Jury action.

Well, is that so terrible?

We put on our neurologist,
they put on theirs.

I'm not sure
we want to turn
a routine procedural step

into a battle of
guns-for-hire.

That's for the trial jury.

I see what you mean.

Our burden of proof
is only reasonable cause.

Instruct the Grand Jury
and have them vote.

The People have rested
It's time for
the jurors to vote.

Why shouldn't we call
the medical examiner
and Miss Taylor's doctor?

The question
raised by Miss Taylor
is atrial issue.

The only issue you are
legally allowed to address

is whether there is
reasonable cause to believe

the defendant killed
Miss Boone.

Yes, but how can
we determine that

without hearing
from those witnesses?

Well, this isn't
the right forum
for hashing out

every factual issue
raised by the accused.

The standard here is
not proof beyond
a reasonable doubt.

You've already
heard testimony

as to the defendant's
motive and opportunity.

You've also heard evidence
that the defendant's prints
were on the murder weapon,

and that it is likely
that she disposed of it.

Well, I just don't see
how it can hurt.

Well, considering
the complexity of the issue

and the time constraints
we're under,

the medical evidence would
probably be inconclusive
and confusing.

Are there
any other questions?

What's the point of
asking more questions

when we can't
get to the truth?

Well, that's what
atrial is for.

And I can assure you
that the defendant will
have every opportunity

to set forth
all her defenses
in a court of law.

When did you
send them out?

Two hours ago.

That's a long time.

I know.

They're mulling over
Taylor's claim of incapacity.

There are a couple of
amateur detectives
on the panel.

I'm just hoping
they don't poison
the others.

Didn't you explain...
Yes!

(BELL RINGING)
Finally.

What?

"No true bill."
They refused to indict.

What the hell happened?

A couple of jurors
sabotaged our case.

We had 16.
We only needed 12
to indict.

It was a tactical
decision, Nora.

Obviously a bad one.

Sometimes Grand Juries
just get overeager,
start looking for holes.

I pushed Serena
to move on this.

I expected the customary
rubber stamp.

Well, we sure didn't get it.

Well, there is
some ambiguity

as to whether Taylor was
physically capable of
doing the stabbing.

Did you ever consider
that she wasn't?

It wasn't clear-cut.
I was convinced
it was an issue for trial.

Taylor had motive,
opportunity.

Her prints were
on the murder weapon.

We didn't want
the proceedings to turn
on medical testimony.

Well, now that
the Grand Jury's
handed us our lunch

let's take another
look at this.

Supposing we believe
her medical assertions,

are there any scenarios
we haven't considered?

Her brother hid
the fact that
he co-owned the building.

Why did you reject him
as a suspect?

Well, Havel treats
his sister like
some kind of pariah.

I just didn't think
he was involved.

Well, I assume he can grip
a pair of pinking shears?

JACK: We can draft
a warrant application

based on their
joint ownership.

You didn't need a warrant.

I'd have been happy
to have you look around,
as long as you were careful.

We'll try not to make
a big mess of things.

Well, I still
don't understand

what you think
you're gonna find here.

We're just covering
all the bases, Mr. Havel.

You never know
what might be useful.

Ms. Southerlyn.

A copy of a housing complaint
lodged by Virginia Boone
against Martha Taylor.

Yeah, but there's a note
scrawled across the bottom.

"Here we go again.
I told you to
take care of her, Stefan.

"Now do it."
Signed,

And the complaint
is dated eight days
before the crime.

(STAMMERING)
You don't understand,

I could never hurt her.

Here's one reason
for the Grand Jury's
refusal to indict.

They didn't have
all the evidence.

Taylor couldn't do it
on her own,

so she enlisted
the help of her brother.

And I thought
they didn't communicate.

I should've listened
to you when you said,
"Money heals all wounds."

There's no way
you could have known
about this at the time.

Still, if you want to
make the application

to re-present
the case yourself,
I'll understand.

If I had thought
you were wrong, Serena,
I would have spoken up.

You're a good lawyer,
indictment or not.

I appreciate you saying that.

Now, assuming that
Taylor's note is
a plea to kill Boone,

can you figure out
a way to get us
a second bite at the apple?

People are moving for leave
to re-submit our case.

The Grand Jury blew out
their last attempt
at an indictment

because they credited
Miss Taylor's testimony.

That is pure speculation.

They could've based
their decision
on other factors.

You may not like it,
Ms. Southerlyn,
but there are no do-overs

if you don't like the outcome
the first time around.

Well, we now have
a new theory on the murder,

and a co-defendant
who acted in concert
with Martha Taylor.

People v. Anderson
authorizes re-submission

where there is
newly discovered evidence.

And People v. Ladsen
limits that

to when the new evidence
couldn't have been
initially discovered

by the prosecution
through the exercise
of due diligence.

And how could the People
discover this evidence

when the co-defendant
hid his interest

in the building
from the police?

I'm inclined to agree.
People's motion is granted.

Ms. Southerlyn.

Another cross-Grand Jury
notice?

My client wants to talk.

Miss Taylor can offer
specific information
as to her brother's motive.

You mean her motive?

No, his motive.

If she wants a deal,
she'll have to admit
her own involvement.

You misinterpret
my note, Mr. McCoy.

Yes, I had been hoping
for years to get Virginia
out of the building,

but it did not mean
to kill her.

If that's all you want
to say, we'll let a jury
decide the semantics.

Look, that woman and I
had battled for years,
mostly over trivial things.

But it was escalating.

She accused me
of pushing her
down the stairs,

which was absolutely untrue.

So, as much as
it galled me,

I needed to contact
my brother.

I wanted him to talk to her,
to get her to leave.

What made you think
she would listen
to your brother and not you?

Because he's the father
of her child.

(SIGHS)

My father bought that
building for $38,000,
in 1929, after the crash.

My brother convinced him
to rent an apartment

to some woman
he met in the '60s.

The only solace I had
when my father passed on

was that we could
sell the building,
live more comfortably.

And then, Stefan
fell in love with Virginia.

And ever since that time
he has refused
to ask her to move out.

And I have been trapped
in that wretched place
for 30 years

with the two of them,
and for awhile,
their bastard child.

So, why would
your brother kill her?

TAYLOR: I don't know
what he did.

She always accused me,

but he was the one
who was constantly
sneaking into her apartment,

stealing her
personal things.

He was hopelessly
in love with her.

Even after the baby was born,

she couldn't stand
the sight of him.

It still doesn't explain
why you tried to dispose of
the murder weapon.

I found the shears
next to her body
before the police arrived.

I figured Stefan
had finally snapped.

I may hate my brother,

but I didn't want him
to go to jail

for finally giving
that old wench
what she deserved.

Why not tell us this
when you were first arrested?

Having been unable
to stab her myself,

I thought I could just
make the whole thing
go away.

But now, I see...

But now, you're
sacrificing your brother
to save yourself?

(SCOFFS) I could have
easily paid her
to leave, Mr. McCoy.

My agent told me
a few weeks
before this happened

that he knew of
a buyer who might be
willing to offer her

as much as $50,000
in cash to vacate,
all perfectly legal.

I said no.

I thought you wanted
her out, Miss Taylor?

Yes.

But I didn't want her
to get a cent.

First you arrest Martha,
now you think it's Stefan?

Well, there's one
loose end we can't
tie up, Mr. Braden.

Oh? How can I help?

We discovered there was
a potential buyer
for 832 Madison.

Someone who may have
paid Virginia Boone
to vacate her apartment.

Well, there were many
interested buyers
over the years.

Uh, none of them gave
Miss Boone any money,
at least to my knowledge.

Well, any one of
these buyers mention

they wanted to offer
some financial incentive?

Not that I know of.

Well, Miss Taylor
seemed to think you'd
found one specific buyer

who was prepared
to pay $50,000.

Maybe she didn't
understand what I said.

I might have mentioned
a ballpark figure.

The best I can do
is give you a list
of the interested parties.

I checked with
all the companies
on Braden's list,

none of them made
any kind of payment
to Virginia Boone.

Maybe Taylor's giving us
the run-around.

No. A lot of what
she said makes sense, Jack.

Boone gave $5,000
to the janitor
at the building

around the same time
Taylor's broker supposedly
mentioned a payoff,

and the police were
never able to track down
where it came from.

Any chance Havel's
son's involved?

I called
the state department.

Jason Boone flew out
of JFK into Amsterdam
10 years ago,

hasn't re-entered the U.S.

And we're sure
this $5,000 wasn't
from the brother or sister?

We checked
into their accounts.

Neither one ever moved
that kind of money around.

Let's see what skeletons
we can scare out
of the closet.

Let me see
if I understand this.

You're gonna charge him
with murder, but first
you want his help?

He claims
he's innocent.

If he cooperates with us,
it may help exonerate him.

I told you before,
I know nothing about it.

What is she doing here?

JACK: I invited her.
It's time we got
to the bottom of this.

Well, I refuse
to participate.

Then, you'll both
be indicted. We'll let
a jury sort it out.

On what theory,
Mr. McCoy?

That their real estate
interests dictated

that Virginia Boone
be murdered.

Your client couldn't kill her,
so she had her brother
do the manual labor.

Why are you people
persecuting me like this?

Because we don't believe
you're innocent.

Ask my brother to
tell them what happened.

I would rather go to jail
than help Miss Taylor!

He killed her.

And this is the thanks
I get for trying
to get him out of his...

Your mess.

I swear to you, sir,
I have committed no crime.

SERENA: You haven't
been straight with us,
Mr. Havel.

First, you hid your interest
in the building,

then we find out
about your relationship
with Virginia Boone.

Miss Taylor told you.

And we know about your son.

SERENA: Why did you
keep it a secret?

I don't know.

Don't tell me,
now you're gonna use this
to prove motive?

That's one possibility.

Another possibility
is that your client

can start trying
to help himself
instead of misleading us.

How did Miss Boone
come into a windfall,
Mr. Havel?

Virginia had money?

My brother is
an idiot!

That woman has been
cheating us for 25 years.

More than
a few dollars
here and there.

She gave Roberto Ramos
$5,000 before
she was killed.

That doesn't seem possible.

Where did she get it,
Mr. Havel?

I have no idea.

Well, do you have any idea
where she kept her money?

HAVEL: I didn't know
she had any...

Well, there was
a safe deposit box
at the Mercantile Bank.

SERENA:
How do you know?

I've seen the bill
that comes in the mail
from the bank.

Box number 141.

Miss Boone started
renting in '87.

Rarely came in at all.

Can I see your
judicial order?

Signed and sealed.

Yes, it is.

First Class Realty.

Feels like $45,000.

Sure. We've got
four or five properties
in your price range.

Charles Braden?

Can we talk
about this outside?

Oh, we'd love to chat,
but there's really
not that much to say.

You're under arrest
for the murder
of Virginia Boone.

Kathy, call Howard Thomas.
His number's in my Rolodex.

It's hard to find
a good broker, isn't it?

Your theory's
a bit hard to believe.

Real estate agent
stabs an old lady
with pinking shears?

Your client was
at the building

waiting for Virginia Boone
to come home.

Roberto Ramos
made a positive ID.

I can demolish that at trial.
My client had 10 reasons
to be in that building.

How many did he have
to hang around outside?

Maybe he came out
for a cigarette.

How does he explain
the $50,000

he gave the victim
to vacate the apartment?

What was your cut
gonna be, Mr. Braden?

Seven or eight percent
of $12 million?

Whose theory is
hard to believe?

At least
I only have one.

This is your third.

If you're having a hard time
making up your mind,
so will the jury.

Which is why I'm offering
man one, 12.5-to-25.

You're gonna have to do
a lot better than that.

10-to-20, final offer.

We walk out of this room
empty-handed,

we're indicting him
for murder two.

I worked for years
on that building.

Putting up with
all three of those lunatics

week after week,
year after year,

indulging them in
their petty bickering,

bailing that
horrible woman out
from her problems.

I was so close
to having it all pay off.

Mr. Braden, have you
discussed this plea
with your attorney?

Yes.

And you're pleading guilty
to first-degree manslaughter

in that you caused
the death of Virginia Boone?

Speak out loud,
Mr. Braden.

Yes.

What happened?

It started when I gave
Virginia Boone $50,000
to vacate her apartment.

Where'd you
get the money?

It was advanced to me
from a prospective buyer.

I paid her the cash and
she agreed to vacate
the unit in two weeks.

Well, two weeks went by
and she still hadn't left,

and she wasn't returning
my phone calls.

So, I went to see her.

What happened when
you went to visit her,
Mr. Braden?

I waited outside for her
to go into the building.

I followed her in, uh,

made small talk with her
until we got off the elevator.

Then, I confronted her
about leaving the apartment.

I was just trying
to convince her to move,

but she got
real nasty about it,

said she wasn't
gonna leave, ever.

Said she was
keeping the money.

I started yelling at her,

telling her
she couldn't do that.

I guess she got scared
when I raised my voice.

She pulled the scissors
out of her cart
and pointed them at me.

I didn't go there
to hurt her, you know,

I just grabbed them, and...

I don't know what happened.

I snapped or something.

I just grabbed the scissors,

and then I stabbed her.

Now that it's over,
Taylor and Havel can
finally sell their building.

Unless
Virginia Boone's son

has standing
to claim her lease.

He's lost somewhere
in Europe.

As far away
from 832 Madison
as he can get.