All language subtitles for Law and orer S12E11 - The Collar

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.

Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned.

It's been two weeks
since my last confession.

Well, for starters,

a man cut me off on
the Cross Bronx Expressway.

I know I shouldn't have,
but I sped up and I cut
him off back.

And then, when I saw
him screaming at me
in my rear view,

I made a hand gesture.

You know,
I flipped him the bird.

Father?

Are you okay?

Father?

Father?

(GASPS) Oh, God!

Lady came in
for confession about 8:20.
This is how she found him.

Name is Father Grady.

Man.

Looks like he caught
it in the line of duty.

Yeah, and no hazard pay.

Was there
anybody here
besides that woman?

Caretaker. We got him in his
office down in the basement.
He's pretty upset.

All right.
Take him outside,
we'll talk to him there.

Hey, let's get some guys
on the street, see if we
can turn up that gun.

And if you need help,
get an ESU team
down here.

So, how do you kill
a man of the cloth?

Small caliber, close range.

Where was the shooter?
In here.

Wow. He shot him right
through the confession screen?

Yeah. The line of fire's
right on a level with
his head.

Which means our guy
was in the sinner's seat.

Wonder how many
Hail Marys that rates?

I got in around 4:00.

First thing I did was
mop the floor in the chapel

and then I went to
clean up downstairs.

What time was that?

Maybe an hour or
so later.

When was the last time
you saw Father Grady?

Right before he went
in to hear confessions.

Maybe 7:00, 7:30.

Did you see who he was
taking confession from?

Well, there are
a couple of regulars,

you know,
elderly ladies
from the neighborhood.

I thought
the chapel was
part of the boys' school.

School uses it during the day.
But it's open to the public
the rest of the time.

And what about
for confessions?

Wednesday nights,
Saturday afternoons.

So, I guess
it's pretty quiet
in the evenings, huh?

There's always a few
students staying late,

but they're usually
next door in the gym.

And anybody else who
wanders in off the street

till I lock the place up
about 10:00.

How long have you
known Father Grady?

About two years.
He was a good priest.

Jeez, what kind of person
could do something
like this?

Who's in charge here?

The Monsignor.
He lives here
in the rectory.

Thanks.

It took
less than 10 minutes
to go through his room.

He's got one desk,
one drawer, nothing unusual.

I don't have to
tell you guys

the brass is
all over this one.

Well, we're trying to
track down some women

who went to confession
that night.

Well, what about
ballistics?

Based on the signature
on the slug,

we're looking
for a Phoenix Arms .25.

Well, you have to figure
someone looking for money

isn't gonna
rob a priest.

Well, his wallet's
still in his room.

And there's
nothing missing
from the chapel.

This could be some
psycho from off the street

who's got a grudge
against the Pope.

Or maybe a grudge
against Father Grady.

FATHER EVANS: We're all
trying to go on with
the routine today.

But it's been hard.

Father Grady
was well-liked?

Very much so.

And Don Bosco isn't
exactly the easiest
place to teach.

Why is that?

Some of the boys
here have been...

Well, turned away
from other schools.

How serious
are the problems?

Oh, it's pretty
wide-ranging.

Any of these kids have
a personal problem
with Father Grady?

Well, you don't
really think that
one of our students

could have
had something
to do with this?

Well, we don't know, Father.
What do you think?

There was a disciplinary
problem with one of
the seniors,

a boy named
Tim Boswell.

But I just can't believe
it could have led to
something like this.

Well, what happened
with this kid?

He and Father Grady had

some sort of altercation.
I don't know the whole story.

But he was suspended
last week.

Does Tim have
this kind of locker?

Well, now,
wouldn't you need
his permission for that?

Well, actually, the law gives
the school as much right to
open it as he has.

There should be
a master key
for these.

I'm not sure I'm very
comfortable with this.

I mean, we try to
maintain a slightly
higher standard here.

Well, we're just trying to
find out if everybody's
living up to it.

Whoa! Catholic school
wasn't like that in
my day.

He's not supposed to
have those.

See, we got
some text books,
notebooks, magazines.

It all looks
pretty straightforward.

What are you looking at,
Mr. Cole?

Nothing.

Aren't you supposed
to be in Latin?

Forgot my book.

What are they doing
with Tim's stuff?

That is not your
business, Mr. Cole.

No, no, no, it's okay.

Hey, you tight
with Tim Boswell?

Know him a little.

BRISCOE: He ever talk
to you about Father Grady?

Do you
have something
to say, Mr. Cole?

He had a fight with him.

What was it about?

Something personal.
I don't know.

Then how do you know
it was personal?

Just the way Tim
was acting yesterday
when he told me about it.

Yesterday? Mr. Boswell
wasn't supposed to be
in school.

ED: What time
did you talk to him?

I don't know, late.

I stayed after
for soccer practice.

When I went
to get my coat,
Tim was right here.

How do I know where he is?

Your son's been
suspended for two weeks

and he's just out
roaming the streets?

You think
he listens to me?

What happened to you,
Mrs. Boswell?

Nothing.
I tripped
on the stairs.

Was Tim home
yesterday evening?

Why?

There was a problem
at his school.

What kind of problem?

A priest was shot
last night.

Which priest?
Father Grady.

Oh, my God.

And why do you
want to talk to Tim?

ED: We just need to
clear a few things up.

You don't think Tim had
anything to do with it?

Actually, we think it was
some drug addicts in
the neighborhood.

Because my son would never
do something like that. Never.

Oh, we just
need to talk to him.

There's some older boys who
hang around by the deli on
9th Avenue.

Doing nothing.

He might be with them.

Tim Boswell?

Yeah.

Let's take a walk, huh?

You arresting him
or something?

Hey, you keep
your mouth shut or we're
going to be arresting you.

Hey, hey, hey, hey!
Smells like teen spirit.

This yours, Tim?
No.

Well, whose is it, then?
Because it was closest
to you.

Anybody?

That's what I thought.

Look, I'll cop
to the ell, okay?

Come on, man. You know
you don't get to sit up here
in first class over some weed.

(EXHALES)
What do you want?

Why don't we start with your
whereabouts yesterday evening?

I was
at the park chilling with
some girls till it got dark.

BRISCOE: And then what?

Went to Mickey D's,
got some food, walked home.

We got somebody that put
you in Don Bosco at 6:30.

Only you were suspended.
So what the hell were
you doing there?

Look, kid,
we got a dead priest.

And the only way
you're going to catch
any kind of a break on this

is if you start
telling us the truth!

All right,
so I was there.

What time?

6:00, 6:30.

Doing what?

All I did was sneak
in to get some weed
from my locker.

I never even
saw Father Grady.

Really?

Because we heard that you
and him threw down
the other day.

Wasn't like that.

BRISCOE: Well, either way,
it's obvious you didn't
like him very much.

I had a reason.

We're listening.

I tell you,
you're just going
to think I killed him.

We already think that.

He was using his collar
to get over.

Wait a minute.

You're telling us that
Father Grady made
advances on you?

(SCOFFS)

My mother.

I can tell you this horrific
crime is being taken very
seriously by the Church.

His Holiness
has been informed

and he sends his
prayers and condolences
to the entire Archdiocese.

Please.

Well, we can assure you,

we're gonna do everything
we can to clear the case.

Monsignor Fanelli informed
us of your suspicions
about Father Grady.

And?

A few weeks ago, my office
got a call from Mr. Boswell.

He accused Father Grady
of having

relations with his wife.

That explains her
trip down the stairs.

Anything to what he said?

I think the problems
in Mr. Boswell's marriage

have nothing
to do with Father Grady.

Did you tell him that?

I did.
He claims we were
covering up for Father Grady.

It seems he really wasn't
interested in hearing
the truth.

From anyone.

My son's not here.

Actually, we want to
talk to you.

About what?

It'd be better
if we did this inside.

(TV PLAYING)

What happened to your wife,
Mr. Boswell?

She fell.

Don't you
got something to
do in the kitchen?

So what do you want?

ED: Where were you
on Wednesday night?

I was here.

You got anybody
that can vouch for you?

My wife.
And a delivery guy
who brought up a pizza.

We understand you knew
the priest who got killed.

I might
have met him once at
a parent-teacher conference.

BRISCOE: And maybe you
thought your wife knew him
a little better than that?

We had
a conversation
with Bishop Durning.

He told us
about your phone call.

Yo, Lennie,
check this out.

Don Bosco newsletter.

We get it every month.
So what?

Yeah, well, on the front page,
it has the schedule
of confession.

It has the priest's name,

the day and the time
he's going to be there.

Oh, sort of like a how-to
for somebody who might
want to kill him.

Wait. Hold on a minute.
The night of the murder,

Father Evans
was supposed to be
in that confessional.

Not Father Grady.

Father Grady and I
traded assignments.

ED: Why didn't you
mention that

the first time
we spoke to you?

I guess
in all the turmoil

it just slipped my mind.

Wait, it should have
been me in there.

Who else knew about
the switch, Father?

Uh...

No one. Uh, just...
Just Father Grady
and myself.

It really wasn't
anything formal.

What about
money problems?

Or, uh, maybe somebody
who had a grudge against you?

You really think
it's possible
this person was

trying to kill me?

Well, anything
is possible.

Father, whoever did this
is still out there.

So why don't you
really think about it

and let us know
if anything clicks, huh?

Boswell thought this priest
was getting it on with
his wife.

Anything to it?

It's an excuse
to wail on her.

We referred her
to Domestic Violence.

The pizza guy says
he delivered a large
sausage and mushroom

to the husband right about
the time of the shooting.

Well, what about his son?

Kid's still on
our short list.

But the change in the
confessional schedule

opens up a whole new
range of possibilities.

So, we start
looking in this
other priest's direction?

This Father Evans?
We already have.

We found out that Don Bosco
sends out 1,600 newsletters
every month

to students, alumni,
congregation members.

We have a list.

The lab
turn up anything
to narrow it down?

Latent came up blank.
We checked this morning.

Well, Detectives,
you've got 1,600 names

to cross-reference
with gun permits
and felony records.

Eddie, just got a heads up
from the 1-5.

A subway worker picked up
a .25 millimeter

from the tracks
at 33rd Street
on the Lex.

That's a few blocks
from Don Bosco.
Thank you.

Eddie?

It's a Phoenix Arms .25,
one shot missing
from the clip.

I had it dusted,
but they couldn't
lift anything usable.

You got a read on
when it was tossed?

It's a guess, but
from the grease and grime,
I'd say a few days at most.

How about
the test fire?

The slug recovered from
the victim's pretty
beat up.

I can testify consistent,
but not a dead-on match.

So, everything says
it's our murder weapon,

but you just can't
make it definite?

I did run
the serial number.

And was it stolen?

Registered to
a Joseph Serrano,
here in the city.

He's got a business
premises license.

You're licensed
for a gun on the
premises, Mr. Serrano?

Uh-huh. I bought it
about five, six years ago.
I'm open late most nights.

So you think
you're going to scare off
a stick-up man with a .25?

Nah. My wife made me
buy the damned thing.

Personally, I'd rather
hand over a day's receipts

than go
muzzle-to-muzzle
with some crackhead.

But hey,
it makes her feel
better me having it.

So when did this gun
go missing?

Missing? Mmm-mmm.
It's right inside.

I keep it locked up
under the register.

It's gone.

When's the last
time you saw it?

Maybe two,
three weeks ago.

Who else has access
to this drawer?

What happened
with this gun?

Who else has the key,
Mr. Serrano?

Danny. My night manager.

The one who wasn't
here Wednesday.

All right.
You're coming with us
till we straighten this out.

I didn't take the gun.

Your boss here says you were
the only other person who
had the key, Danny.

Plenty of people
could have picked up
that key from somewhere.

Now that wouldn't make you
a very good night manager,
now would it?

I go out of my way to give
you a job and now you got me
jammed up behind this? Uh-uh!

Where'd you get this
Don Bosco mug, Danny?

SERRANO: He went
to high school there.

You been over there recently?

Why would I?

How about to
go to confession?

Not since
I was a kid.

ED: You heard
about the priest who
got shot over there, right?

Look, I don't know
nothing about the priest.

But you heard
about it, right?

Yeah.

BRISCOE: Well, it turns out
that priest was killed with
the gun we're talking about.

Your gun, your school, Danny.

BRISCOE:
Now, the least
you're looking at

is a weapons possession
charge, kid.

I'm going to lose my job.

You already did.

What we're talking
about now is jail time.

I gave the gun
to my cousin, Angel.

ED: Now, why would you
do that?

He said he needed
something for protection.

Protection from what?

He wouldn't tell me!

He just said
he needed the gun

for a couple of days
and he'd bring it back.

Does Angel
go to Don Bosco?

No, he used to.

Now he works up
at the boatyard.

Angel Cabrera's worked
for me for about a year.

You have any problems?

He shows up.

That's him,
working on that 19-footer.

(HORN BLARING)

(TRUCK HORN BLARING)

Get your ass
back here, stupid!

BRISCOE: We don't like it
when somebody runs, Angel.

Kind of gets things
off on the wrong foot.

I got a warrant, man.

You want us to believe
you almost got yourself
shot for a turnstile jump?

Tell us about the gun
your cousin gave you, Angel.

I lost it.
Yeah, we know.

Somebody found it
on the 6-Train tracks.

Must have fell out of
my pocket when I was
changing cars.

Now, this is after you
got off on 33rd Street?

Man, I got no reason
to be down there.

Well, here's the readout
from your MetroCard, Angel.

It's got you entering the
33rd Street station
at 7:42 p.m.

Should have jumped
that turnstile.

You go to church?

My mother gave me that.

What's your mother
going to think

when she finds out
why we picked you up?

Maybe we ought to
call her right now.

Yo, I don't even
know that priest, man.

ED: You know
Father Evans?

Look, man.
Your mother put you in
a really good Catholic school.

She goes to church
every Sunday

and prays for your soul
and this is how you
repay her?

She brought you up
believing that God
forgives all sins,

but you have
to cop to it first.

Either way, we're going
to charge you with murder.

I want a lawyer.

You sure?

Because once a lawyer
gets involved, it ain't
between you and God anymore.

I want a lawyer.

Well, he was in one
of my classes, but that
was over four years ago.

And that was your
only contact with him?

For the most part.

Angel had
some problems
around that time.

What kind of problems?

I'm sure
you already know.
He was arrested a few times.

BRISCOE:
And you helped him
out of those situations?

His mother
contacted me.

I offered my advice
and support to him.

Shooting you is kind
of a strange way for him
to pay you back, isn't it?

Then you believe
Angel's responsible
for Father Grady's murder?

We do.

Any reason why Angel
would want you dead,
Father?

Oh, I'm sorry.
But I'm just not at
liberty to talk about it.

Kind of a strange answer,
Father.

I really don't have
anything else to say.

But you do know something
about what happened?

Look, whatever your
relationship is with him,

I'm sure there's a way
we can figure this out.

Look, I'm sorry, Detective.

But I'm a priest,
not a police officer.

Excuse me.

It's better to cut Cabrera
loose now than after some
half-baked indictment.

We got lucky on that,
the arraignment judge
held him on the warrant.

What's our take on this
priest's refusal
to cooperate?

Well, it sounds like Cabrera
must have told him something
in confidence.

Then he's relying
on privilege?

Apparently, without claiming
he took this kid's confession.

That makes
a difference?

If this
was a formal confession,
we'd be stopped in our tracks.

Not every communication
between a cleric and
a congregant is privileged.

(EXHALES)
So it's not enough if
the priest says it is?

Privilege only attaches
when someone seeks
spiritual counsel.

So, if this priest
is tap dancing around
this for whatever reason,

maybe we have some leeway
to find out what was said.

I'm not sure
I like the fact
that we have so much

wiggle room
in all of this.

LEWIN:
What do we know about the
nature of the conversation?

So far we don't even know
what the circumstances were.

LEWIN: Cabrera's mother
is the one who called
this priest.

Mmm-hmm.

Let's find out why.

Your son didn't appear for
court when he was arrested.

He was afraid
to lose his job.

Which is why I came
to speak to you,
Mrs. Cabrera.

Speak to me?
About what?

Your son's been
doing pretty well.

Yes.

Only, now
we think he might have some
information about a shooting,

but so far
he's refused to
tell us anything.

My Angel is a good boy.

That's what
Father Evans tells us.

God bless that man.

I don't know what
we'd do without him.

So, Father Evans has
helped Angel before, then?

Yeah, in high school.

His father ran off.
My son took it
very hard.

I tried...

But that's
when Angel started
getting into trouble.

Yeah. He began to have
problems in school and

then there was
the stolen cars,
shoplifting...

So you called Father Evans?

One night Angel comes home.
He's very scared.

Scared about what?

I think he saw
something happen.

He would never tell me.

I don't think he wanted
to frighten me.

But you never knew
what this was about?

No. All I know, is that
he was afraid to go out.

And we started
getting these calls
in the middle of the night.

I finally disconnected
the phone.

You didn't
call the police?

No, I called Father Evans.

He came to our apartment
and spoke to Angel.

And nothing happened.

Thank God.

And ever since then,
Father Evans has always
kept in touch with Angel.

When was the last time
your son saw Father Evans?

A few weeks ago, I think.

MURPHY: Angel Cabrera?

Hmm, there's one entry.
"Detective R. Murphy,
3-1 Precinct."

He would have been 18
when you pulled
his jacket.

I worked a lot
of cases the past
three years, Counselor.

Well, what were you
working in October
of '98?

We have to save
our old memo books.
Let me take a look.

Well, his mother said she
had the phone disconnected.

According to
the phone company,
that was on the 11th.

You pulled his jacket
on the 16th.

Okay, looks like
I was working

a couple of
residential break-ins
with our Burglary Squad.

Anything else?

Uh, a homicide.

The vic was a kid
named Samuel Landrum.

Okay, yeah, here he is.
Angel Cabrera.

Address. Phone disconnected.
That's right.

Why were you trying
to contact him?

We had a tip
he had some information.
He's possibly an eyewitness.

Did you ever
interview him?

Doesn't look like
we ever did.
Why not?

Case was closed
with one collar
on the 29th.

Perp's name,
Freddie Ortega.

And if I'm remembering right,
Ortega got convicted,
he went upstate.

Without Cabrera's
cooperation?

Turns out we didn't need it.
We had a solid ID on Ortega.

Then we found
a jacket in his closet

with Landrum's blood on it
the day we grabbed him up.

The victim was knifed
in Riverside Park.

One group of kids beefing
with another group of kids

over a bubble jacket.

This year it's denim.

But it just doesn't
make any sense, Jack.

Why would Cabrera
want to kill Evans

if all it was about was
his involvement as
a witness?

Have you talked
to Father Evans

since you learned
about the Landrum case?

No. He won't
take my phone calls.

Drop a subpoena on him.

On a priest?

Cabrera's bound to be
cut loose at his next
court appearance.

I'd rather
not see him taking
another shot at someone.

Well, obviously,
this priest feels like

he has a religious
obligation to stay silent.

Question for us is,
is it a legal obligation?

And we can't know that until
we get some information
from him.

Well, what if he won't answer
our questions in front of
a grand jury?

I mean,
would we really
hold him in contempt?

Not our call.

Well, we're the ones
putting him in this position.

Doctors, lawyers,
even priests.

They don't get to
make their own rules.

Sometimes the people that
they counsel get a free pass,

but only in a narrow
set of circumstances.

(EXHALES IN FRUSTRATION)

I thought you were
brought up Catholic.

Which is exactly why
I'm bending over backwards

to treat this man
like any other witness.

Just let me
try and talk to him again.
Just give me one more chance.

I'm not
looking for a fight.
Take your best shot.

Great.

Only bring
a subpoena
with you.

Hi. I'm Serena Southerlyn,
from the D.A.'s office.

I'm handling
the Cabrera case.

I'd like to ask you a few
questions about him, Father.

Well, I'm afraid
I can't help you.

But you haven't
even heard what I want
to speak with you about.

I didn't mean
to be rude. Please.

Thanks.

I've already spoken
with Angel's mother.

And with the detective
who investigated the
Landrum murder.

There's nothing I can add.

Are you sure
there's nothing you're
willing to say, Father?

On or off the record?

I'm very sorry, but no.

I know you think what
you're doing is right.

We're not
going to stop
asking these questions.

(SIGHS)

This is a subpoena requiring
you to appear and give
testimony before

the grand jury
in the case of People
against Angel Cabrera.

The Archdiocese
views this as an abuse
of your prosecutorial power.

My office
is investigating
the murder of a priest.

And who more than the Church
would want his killer
brought to justice?

We all respect
religious privilege,

but the law entitles us
to ask certain questions

in order to determine whether
or not that privilege applies.

He confided in a priest.

What more do you
people need?

Father Evans
never claimed
it was confession.

And Cabrera's mother
indicated that
he was afraid,

that he didn't know
what to do.

Legal privilege wouldn't apply
if Cabrera were only seeking
practical advice.

The whole
purpose of privilege
is to encourage people

to seek guidance
from their clergy in
an atmosphere of trust.

You really want to be
splitting hairs on this?

Unfortunately, it's
our job to split hairs.

This priest
made a decision
to keep a confidence.

I'm asking you to
respect his decision.

We're trying to.
But we can't do it without
the cooperation of the priest.

At some point
you're going to face
the voters, Ms. Lewin.

I don't think you want to
be known as the candidate

who locked up a priest
because of his

spiritual convictions.

I certainly hope that's
not a threat, Mr. Mansfield.

Because if it is, you might
want to consider your
own position

as someone
who's obstructing the
investigation of a homicide.

I really hope
you reconsider.

Good day.

(DOOR CLOSES)

We're absolutely sure
there's no other way
to do this?

The only two people
who know anything
won't talk to us.

Unless we get
some information
from Father Evans,

we're working in the dark.

Well, with everything that's
been happening in this city,

are we sure
this is the right time to
be challenging the Church?

Angel Cabrera
wasn't the only one there
when Landrum was murdered.

Freddie Ortega
was there, too.

ORTEGA:
Father Evans sent you?

JACK: Why do you think that,
Mr. Ortega?

Because he told me
he was going to help me.

You're from
the D.A., right?

Yeah. That's right.

So, didn't he talk to you?
Isn't that how come
you're here?

We came here on our own.

Maybe I should just let
Father Evans handle this.

If you're looking for help,
I'd think you'd be eager
to talk to us.

(SIGHS)

But Father Evans is
trying to get me
out of here.

Why would he
be doing that?

Because he knows
I didn't kill nobody.

JACK: A jury
thought otherwise.

That's 'cause they
don't know everything.

There was
a lot of people
tussling out there, man.

But I wasn't the one
who stabbed the kid.

His blood was found
on your jacket.

Because I helped carry him,
the fight was over by then.

A person ID'd you
as the stabber.

Oh, man, she only saw it after
when I was picking Sammie up
off the ground.

Look, Father Evans
knows I didn't do it.

HOW?

All he said
was that God knew
the wrong person was in jail.

When did he say this?

He's been saying it.

This whole time I been here,
he's been saying it.

Look, you don't believe me,
I got his letters telling me

to keep the faith
and everything.

Then after
my appeal got squashed,
that's when he came to see me.

What did he tell you?

He said that
he was going to get
the guy who killed Sammie

to go to the police.

How did he
plan to do that?

All he said was
that God would
make sure

that everything
would come out
all right.

So now we know.

Cabrera wasn't
just an eyewitness,
he was the murderer.

Father Evans went into
high gear when Ortega's
last appeal was denied.

That's when he started making
personal visits to prison
and to Cabrera.

LEWIN: Trying to
get him to confess.

Re-confess.

So, if Cabrera thought
this priest was about
to reveal his secret,

he had plenty of
motive to kill him.

What are we going
to do about Ortega?

No judge is going to release
a convicted killer based on
his self-serving statement.

We need
Father Evans now
more than ever.

PAUL: Jack McCoy.

Thanks for making
the time, Paul.

How many years since
your last confession?

How can I help the people
of the state of New York?

We've got an issue
with a priest.

Refusing to disclose
what someone told him.

And you want to pick my brain
to see how you can twist
the poor fellow's arm?

Well, you're going to have
to tell me more than that,
if you want my help.

We think this kid
committed a crime.

Then his mother called
this priest to talk
to him.

To give confession?

The priest
is refusing to say
one way or the other.

Well, was the kid
asking forgiveness?

Based on everything
we've learned so far,

I'm guessing no.

People go to confession
to seek forgiveness.

To express regret for
whatever it is that
they've done.

I don't know of any priest

who would absolve
a murderer without that.

Or without their agreeing
to come forward to accept

whatever punishment
he or she might deserve.

Well, this kid is letting
an innocent man do his
time for him.

And he tried to kill
this priest to keep
him quiet.

The Grady case.

A patient
threatens his shrink,
a client threatens his lawyer,

any confidentiality
there is gone.

Religion and the law
don't always speak
the same language.

That being said,

on these facts, I wouldn't
have much trouble
revealing what he'd told me.

So, what's stopping
this priest?

He must still have hope.

Hope that he can get this kid
to come forward and save
his soul.

Now my guess is, as long
as this priest has that hope,

you won't get him
to talk.

So my job is to take
his hope away from him.

Don't worry, Jack.

I'll still put in
a good word for you.

SERENA: "I know
you didn't kill anyone.

"You're a victim
of a terrible
miscarriage of justice.

"But you must have faith
in the Lord and not
lose hope.

"I'll do everything in
my power as servant of
His Church

"to fight
for your freedom."

That was
personal correspondence.

Which Mr. Ortega
consensually provided.

Now that you know,

can't you help him?

The court's
not just going to take
his word for it, Father.

I can't reveal
what Angel told me.

You've done what
you could for this kid.

He's not going
to come forward.

Father Grady's murder
is proof of that.

So there's nothing I can say.

Well, if you can't repeat what
he told you, at least give us
some background information.

How would that help you?

Well, if we can understand
the circumstances of
his statements...

No!

You're looking
for loopholes.

We're looking
for the truth.

Angel Cabrera
bared his soul to me
as Christ's intermediary.

In his apartment,
not in a church.

Oh, come on, Mr. McCoy.

You know what
I'm talking about, Father.

He believed
he was speaking to me
under a seal of secrecy.

Did he ask your advice
about what he should do?

Of course.
Legal advice?

This wasn't
a legal consultation.

Did you offer
him absolution?

This is wrong.

How about
an act of contrition?

If he were a Jew and I was
a Rabbi, you wouldn't even
be asking these things.

Maybe not. But we'd be
asking different things.

Oh, I see.

So it isn't
a home run because
we didn't touch all the bases.

If his
statements weren't
spiritually motivated,

you are
allowed to testify
about what was said.

I'm not supposed to be
looking for technicalities.

Don't you think
I want to help you?

I just can't.

One more push,
we could have him.

Or lose him.

Mr. McCoy. Dana Bauer.

I've been assigned to
represent Angel Cabrera.

On a turnstile jump?

I think we all know
a murder indictment's
coming down the pike.

JACK: Do we?

I also know you've been
speaking to Father Evans.

You don't have to tell me,
I'll save you the trouble.

This is a motion to
preclude any and
all statements

my client made
to Father Evans.

Enjoy your day.

Anything my client
said to Father Evans

during the visit to
his apartment in 1998

is inadmissible
hearsay evidence.

Even if I find
the clergy-congregant
privilege doesn't apply here?

That's right, Judge.
In this situation,

the hearsay rule
would bar the statement,

even if the
privilege wouldn't.

Mr. Cabrera's statement was
a declaration against his
penal interest.

It's admissible
under an exception
to the hearsay rule.

Mr. McCoy's forgetting
that Mr. Cabrera

thought he was speaking
to Father Evans in confidence.

Since he didn't
believe his words
would ever be revealed,

they weren't
against his interest.

Counselors?

People v. Robinson,
Your Honor.

Robinson is a fail-safe remedy
available when the hearsay
rule violates due process.

Father Evans'
testimony will establish

that an innocent man
is serving a life sentence.

If that is
not a violation
of due process,

I don't know what is.

But Mr. Cabrera's the one
who's being prosecuted here.

This remedy
was not carved out for
the benefit of a third party.

It shouldn't matter whose
name is in the caption, Judge.

If Robinson
says anything,

it's that you cannot look
at the hearsay rule
in a vacuum.

I have to agree, Ms. Bauer.

Provided Father Evans
will, in fact, testify

that Mr. Cabrera
made a confession.

If he takes the stand,
that's what
we anticipate he'll say.

Anticipate, Mr. McCoy?

He hasn't
revealed the substance of
Mr. Cabrera's statement to us.

I'm not allowing this priest
in front of a jury if he's
going to balk

when he gets to
the moment of truth.

That's a not-so-subtle
hint to the jury that
Mr. Cabrera's guilty.

What if we produce
Father Evans
as an offer of proof?

Fine, but the man's going
to have to make up his mind,

one way or the other.

I just called Father Evans
to tell him about the hearing.

JACK: How did he take it?

Well, he thanked me for not
showing up at his door with
another subpoena.

Any read on what
he's going to do?

I don't think
he knows himself.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Mr. McCoy?
Bishop Durning.

May I speak
with you privately?

I have a few calls
to make.

Please.

I take it
this is about
Father Evans?

It's my understanding that
you still intend to call
him to testify.

It's the only way
we can prove

one defendant's guilt
and another's innocence.

No one is trying
to subvert the ends
of justice, Mr. McCoy.

Certainly not the Church.

But your decision
puts Father Evans in
an untenable position.

I'm sympathetic with that.
Father Evans doesn't want
to talk to us.

But he must talk to us.

This is one
of those situations

where the ends of religion
and the ends of justice
don't coincide.

Isn't the job of saving souls
more important than
punishing them?

Catholic, Muslim, Jew.
A man's

private communication
with his spiritual advisor

is none of the
government's business.

It's away for people
to reach out to God,

to seek out
His compassion
and forgiveness.

I'm not sure Mr. Cabrera
was seeking forgiveness.

And who makes that call?

In this building,
the court does.

If Father Evans
refuses to testify,

the court could
hold him in contempt.

If he violates his conscience
or the precepts of the Church,

there may also
be consequences.

Either case,
it's no place to be.

Find another way, Mr. McCoy
For all our sakes.

JACK: First you go down
on the murder in the church.

That's 25-to-life.

Then we try you
for the Landrum murder.

That's another 25.

What's the offer?

He pleads to both,
20-to-life concurrent.

Fifteen and we've got
something to talk about.

Fifteen.

Angel?

All this depends on whether
Father Evans gives
me up, right?

Fifteen is
better than 50, Angel.

And zero's
better than both.

I don't think he's going to
testify against me.

Well, then why did
you try to kill him?

If he was going to talk,
he would've done it already.

And if you're so sure
that he's going to go
to court at all,

you wouldn't be trying
to get me to cop out now.

Yes or no, Mr. Cabrera?

Let's leave it
in God's hands.

I didn't hold out
much hope Angel would
accept a plea bargain.

I was never able
to reach him either.

I went
as far as I could.

And I thank you for that.

I accepted
this calling because

I wanted to
make a difference,

to teach and minister
to young people,

to offer solace and hope.

If there was
another way...

Suppose, as a lawyer,

you held a client's
confidence,

a secret you felt
morally bound to reveal.

Would you violate your oath?

If I felt morally bound,

I'd like to think I'd
follow my conscience, yes.

You'd be willing to accept the
consequences of your decision?

It doesn't concern you
that your life is
in danger?

Of course it does.

But if I let reason
persuade me in this,

then my soul
is in danger.

It's noble of you to
defend the ideal, Father,

that you can get
Angel Cabrera to
come forward.

But when he
came after you,

when he murdered another
priest to keep the secret,

he rejected the ideal.

You and I both know
there's such a thing as
evil in the world, Father.

People out there
I still might be
able to help.

If I choose to make
a personal decision

and reveal
this confidence,

my usefulness as a priest

will be compromised forever.

I received
a phone call
from Mrs. Cabrera.

She said Angel was
in some kind of trouble

and she begged me
to come right over.

What did you observe
when you arrived?

Mrs. Cabrera was in
a state of agitation.

She asked me to go into
Angel's bedroom and
speak to him.

I went in.

Angel was on his bed,
he was crying.

There was dried blood on
the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

What happened next?

I asked him if
he was all right,

if he was hurt.
He said he was
okay, but

that he had something
to tell me.

What did he say?

That he had done
something terrible.

That he stabbed
another boy in
the park.

Anything else?

He asked me
what he should do.

I told him there was
only one thing to do,

that he should turn
himself in to the police

and if he did that,

God would always stand
by him.

Did he agree to do this?

He did not.

Did Mr. Cabrera ever
ask for forgiveness?

No, he did not.

Nothing further.

Cross, Miss Bauer?

Your Honor,
there was a plea bargain

previously offered
to my client.

Is that 15-to-life
still open?

Times two.

Angel, I'm sorry
I failed you, son.

SERENA:
I asked Father Evans
if he wanted to be there

when the judge
released Ortega.

I see he declined.

JACK:
Other things on his mind.

Two murder convictions
and the vindication of
an innocent man, Jack.