All language subtitles for City on a Hill - S03E01 - Gods and Monsters

Does, uh,
Joseph Congemi live here?

He's got nothing to say to you.

You got nowhere to run, Anton!

Fuck.

Fuck happened?

He fucking wheeled on me, Chris.

He wheeled on me.

You need me to be
your token Black boy.

I want you to do
your fucking job.

I'm asking to be polite.

Fuck you.

You can have it.

You have to remember,

Boston is a mistake.

The Mayflower was never
supposed to land

on Plymouth fucking Rock.

They were heading to Virginia
and got lost.

Boston only exists

because of someone's
shitty sense of direction.

Ah.

The prodigal
pain in the ass returns

to the scene of his many crimes.

And the prodigal drunk remains
steadfast in his self-loathing.

What are you drinking?

- You buying?
- I'm pouring.

Hennessy, right?

Wait, wait.

You work here?

Oh, my, how far
the mighty have fallen.

Nah.

Given the shit I went through

with that bitch Shimizu
this past year,

- tending bar is a promotion.
- Hmm.

And fuck you.

So, the roar became a whisper.

Again, fuck you.
That's five bucks.

You know, we're looking
for some investigators

down at the D.A.'s office.
You want me to say something?

You serious?

Fuck no.

Good.

'Cause guys that work for you
don't live that long.

You better go clean that up.

Not again, Jimmy.

Dispatch, we're arriving
on the scene right now.

We're approaching the residence.

Stand by. We're making contact.

Police. This is the police.

Residents or occupants, come
to the door and open it now.

All right, cover, cover.

- We got one occupant, female.
- What the fuck is going on?

- Show me your hands now.
- Do you know what time it is?

I'm Karen Shimizu,
the U.S. attorney.

- What is this about?
- Step outside, ma'am.

We're responding to a call about
shots fired at this address.

What? Gunshots?

Yes, ma'am.

- Who called?
- A neighbor.

Well, that's bullshit.

I've been home alone
all night...

...not shooting a gun,
all right?

We got to sweep this house.

Stay with her.

Stand aside, please.

We are entering the residence.

Copy, dispatch. Stand by.

- Room is clear.
- All clear in here.

Dispatch, Ladder 44.

We've arrived at the scene.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Police are here, too.

Fuck you, Shimizu.

Dispatch,
there's no sign of fire here.

We're gonna go in and make sure.

Good night, Dominique.

How was that?

- Nice.
- Hmm.

Good night, Letitia.

Good night, Sinclair.

You look like a bird,
but you talk like a man.

I've known all along

you were a bully, not a bird.

Maybe, but I don't fool around.

You ever heard of
using a coaster?

Fucking Clutch Cargo.

I forgot how much I love
this fucking show.

In this one,
Clutch and Snowshoe Slednick

capture the Arctic Bird Giant,

but it's not actually
a bird giant.

It's just some fucking asshole
dressed like a bird

on fucking stilts.

It's genius.
I got to try that.

Goddamn it,
is this honestly my life?

What did I do now?

Jack shit is what you do.

You work at that bar
from 6 to 2 in the morning.

I mean, you come home reeking
of booze, smoke and vomit.

You sleep till noon,
then you lie around here

drinking and farting
until you just shower

- and you leave again.
- "For many are called

but few are chosen."
Matthew 22:14.

Something's got to change.

Okay? There's-there's not
enough money coming in.

Minimum wage and 200 bucks
a week in tips

isn't gonna cover Benny's
$20,000 dollar

room, board and tuition at NYU.

I'm scared.

"Fear kills more people
than death."

You know who said that?

General George S. Patton.

When Ike almost fired George
for slapping

that-that soldier in Italy,
did he panic? No.

Did he wuss out
and run to mama? No.

He stood his fucking ground
and marched into Berlin.

You didn't victoriously march
into Berlin.

Yeah, you were fired
from the FBI!

No. No, no, no. I quit.

And-and-and you're forgetting

the escape money
in the basement.

Yeah, which you've been
dipping into for months now.

- How much of that is left?
- Plenty. Tons. We're flush.

Don't worry about it.

We both know about growing up
with shitty fathers

- who couldn't provide.
- Oh.

Why you got to bring
your loser father into this?

The day that we got married,
you promised

that you would always
take good care of our family.

Well, now you're breaking
that promise.

So here are your choices:

you get a better job,

or we sell the house,

or I go back to work.

Pick one.

'Cause I'm not waiting around
for us to go broke.

Bozo, my friend,
we're in trouble.

Your thoughts?

Yeah. You're right.

Maybe I should make some calls.

Good talk.

Decourcy, come on in.

I want your opinion.

Which photo makes me look
less like a cunt

and more avuncular
and trustworthy?

Ooh. Uh, you want the truth?

- Yeah.
- I don't give a shit.

Now, why'd you really
call me in?

Ah. Have a seat.

I'm running for attorney general

of the Commonwealth
of Massachusetts.

God, saying the whole thing
sounds so good.

And why do I care?

I know you'll miss me,
but if I win,

I will leave this office with
eight months left in my term.

And the governor says
I can appoint my successor.

Which means,

if I chose you and you kick ass,

you could position yourself
to run for a full term in '94.

What's the catch?

You're not
my only potential choice.

Of course not.

You expect me to kiss your ass

and be you errand boy
to prove myself.

You, sir, are
fucking unbelievable.

But I'm still your fucking boss,
and what I say goes.

Read into this what you want.

I'm trying to help your career.

- You mean your career.
- Fuck's wrong with that?

As the Sicilians say,
one hand washes the other,

both hands wash the dick.

So, what I need is
excellence and convictions

to sell to the voting public.
Out of both of you.

Who's the other guy?

The other guy is a woman.

And she's on her way here now.

Mr. Ward, Blair Chavez.

Meeting you is an honor,

and working with you will be
a privilege.

It's nice to meet you, as well.

Given the circumstances.

Yes, the circumstances are

- a little off-putting.
- Mm.

I don't even know why I'm under
consideration for your job.

You made headlines in Chicago,

putting that state senator away
for misuse of campaign funds.

You built a big, splashy,
successful case,

and that is what I expect
from the two of you.

He thinks his transparency
is comforting.

All I know is
I will need to lean on you

to learn how
Suffolk County works.

Happy to help.

Welcome to Boston.

Let the games begin.

Aw, that's nice.

Yeah, my dad used to take me
here, too, when I was little.

Mr. Suferin,
your former partner,

Officer Wallace,
will testify that you disobeyed

Sergeant Caysen's orders
by going into the house

where Anton Campbell
was cornered.

Wallace was right behind me

- when I...
- I'm not finished.

He will also testify
that Campbell

was not turning around.

Instead, you executed him

while others
were negotiating with him.

That Black bastard was firing.

- Every cop out front...
- Forensics do not lie.

He was shot
in the side of the head.

He wasn't facing you.

And that's why
you're being charged

under Title 18
U.S.C. Section 242

of the Federal Criminal Code.

A possible life sentence.

Miss Shimizu,
I assume you're here to save

the government time and money.

What's your offer?

PTC, and we recommend 15 years,
not life.

- Fuck that!
- He was performing his duty.

His actions were justified.

No jury would ever convict
a cop of that.

His own partner

called Mr. Campbell's death
an assassination.

Officer Suferin's jacket has
over a dozen complaints

of racial animus
for which he was disciplined.

- I'm not a racist.
- Life or 15, Mr. Suferin.

Take the offer.

If it's a boy,

I'm thinking Russ Wallace Jr.
But is that okay?

- I mean, I don't know.
- Russ, the baby's not here yet.

You're getting all tangled up
for no reason.

We're a couple weeks away.

I'm just not sure
that I'm ready.

I mean...

holy shit, a fucking baby.

Every dad-to-be feels the same.

Then the day comes, you're
holding your baby boy or girl

in your arms, and in that
precious moment, you realize

in 16 years that kid's gonna be
saying, "Fuck you, Dad."

Thanks
for the sage advice, Sarge.

Go.

Ronnie Weskum!

This is the Boston Police.

We have you surrounded.

Step out of the vehicle
with your hands up

and walk backwards to my voice.

Ronnie! Step out of the vehicle!

Show me both your hands,
then walk backwards to my voice.

Don't fuck around, Ronnie.

Show me both your hands.

Gun! Gun!

- Suspect down.
- Down! Suspect down!

- He's down!
- Suspect down.

- All right, easy, easy. Move in.
- Moving in.

Officer down. Officer down.

Russ. Russ.

Stay here, man. Stay here.

Fuck.

Dad. Coaster.

Jesus Christ, you're more like
your mother every day.

You're hovering.

Yeah, I got to talk to you
about something.

How much you need?

I mean, that's a pretty shitty
conversation starter.

Come on, what makes you think

I'm always gonna ask you
for money?

- Get that, will you?
- Uh-huh.

Hi there. I'm Sinclair Dryden.

- Can I help you?
- Is your father home?

Let me check.

- Dad?
- Yeah, yeah.

Send him right in, Benny.

Thank you.

Jackie.

- It's good to see you.
- Sinclair.

Still tan as a porn star.

- Let's sit in here.
- Yeah.

Uh, I don't know
if you got my message.

I-I called you.
I-I didn't hear back.

Yeah, I've done
too many wiretaps

to trust using a phone, huh?

Oh, boy.

Oh. Bad back, huh?

Yeah, playing football
at a family gathering.

Ever since, any change of
the weather makes my back ache.

Well, it wasn't aching...
what was it, five years ago?...

when you punched
that U.S. attorney.

He deserved more of a beating.
His secretary started screaming.

You were the best SAC
the Boston Bureau ever had.

It's a shame that that pansy's
broken jaw cost you your job.

I fell on my own sword,
like a man should.

You've done the same,
or so I hear.

- You landed on your feet.
- Well, like I said

in my message, you know,
I'm-I'm doing some consulting.

You know, a little of this,
little of that.

Back when I was running
the Boston Bureau,

I let you pick your own music,
dance your own dance.

No questions asked.
I could depend on you.

You still can.

That's why I want to hire you.

Look, I think this could be

a perfect situation
for both of us.

I made a lot of enemies
in the course of my career.

And lately, uh,
things have started to happen.

Tires slashed,
my wife gets harassed.

A couple of nights ago, a car
follows my daughter Victoria

onto our driveway,
parks right behind her

and stays there a while.

Scared her to death.

- You have surveillance cameras?
- Yes, but there's

a gap in the tape
at the time of the incident.

Look, Jackie, I know
you've been slinging hooch

at the 21st Amendment.

But that's a waste
of Jackie Rohr.

You need a job, and I need
somebody who knows his shit.

As your head of security?

Oh, I'm not worried
about myself.

But I am afraid for Letitia and
my daughter when I'm not around.

2,000 bucks a week, cash.

That's almost $50,000 dollars
more than you were making

working for Uncle, and no,
you do not have time

to talk to your wife.

Yeah, all right.

I'll see you at my house
at 10 a.m. tomorrow morning.

Oh. Mount Vernon Street, huh?
Beacon Hill.

Must be nice to always get
what you came for.

An advance.

I'll show myself out.

Bendrops.

How much you need?

Dr. Stewart, please dial 2126.

Dr. Stewart, please dial 2126.

Russ just died.

- Carol, I'm so sorry.
- No. No, no, no,

no, no, no, no.

It was Blair Chavez,

some hotshot A.D.A.
out of Chicago.

Guy Dan hired her to...

To fuck with my head.

Well, then, that's simple.

Don't let her fuck
with your head.

Look...

I want to be Suffolk County D.A.

Then I'd get the chance
to actually make the changes

that need to be made.

- Hello?
- Decourcy, hey.

Hey, Louie. What's up, man?

So, listen, uh,

I was out on patrol
when I got a call.

Pop collapsed
in front of the house.

Wait, what? Is he okay?

He seems to be.

The-the paramedics can't figure
out what's wrong with him.

Well, what did the doctors say?

That stubborn old fool
won't go see a doctor.

He says he's fine.
He's upstairs sleeping.

I'll be in Brooklyn
as soon as I can.

All right, I'll see you.

I haven't heard you
whistle in months.

"Man starts over again
every day,

in spite of all he knows,
against all he knows."

You sure you want
to work in Beacon Hill?

Yesterday you said
I was a lazy shit-bum.

You compared me
to your degenerate father

and you beat my balls
like scrambled eggs.

So, yeah, two grand a week cash

to make sure that Dryden's
doors are locked?

That's the right decision.

I know you, Jackie.

Nah, there's more to this
than just the money.

You like feeling
like a cop again.

Wrong.

I don't miss that life
a single fucking bit.

Good for you.

You got your first lie
of the day out of the way.

Hernando's been hit.
He's got a fucking rod

through his fucking head.
Get help.

Call an ambulance.

This is site 22.
We've had an accident.

We need an ambulance.

How you doing?

Fuck.

Officer Suferin
refused my offer.

Never should have
put one on the table.

That bastard deserves life
in prison, no chance at parole.

Sorry keeping you guys waiting.

You should've called.

Yeah, I should've. I should've
done a lot of fucking things.

Look, I have tons
of things to do

before I head to Brooklyn
tomorrow.

Chris, did Officer Wallace
ever contradict his statement

about Suferin
murdering Anton Campbell?

Uh, no. He, uh...

At first, he was hesitant
to say anything,

but he came around.

Russ knew he had to do
what was right.

And now he's dead.
Apparently, shot by another cop.

Ballistics report
came in this morning.

Did you read it?

Looks like one of your guys
killed Wallace.

It's not a house fire.

We still have
his sworn statement.

No, but a living witness
is better than a piece of paper.

- What's this?
- Either a blessing or a curse.

You heard about that accident
that happened

at the Big Dig site
near South Street?

Oh, the crane gave way
or something?

What happened was
a little more graphic.

Meet Hernando Mendoza.

Ooh. Sweet Jesus.

That's probably who saved him.

- Mendoza survived this?
- Mm-hmm.

He's in the hospital.

Doctors aren't sure how much
he'll recover, if at all.

The family wants to sue,
but no law firm in the city

will represent him because...

Because this is
Tip O'Neill's love child.

Anyone who fucks
with the Big Dig

is gonna get crushed.

You up for taking on Goliath?

I'll get my slingshot.

How are you?

Jackie Rohr for Sinclair Dryden?

- Thanks.
- Mrs. Dryden will be

- right with you.
- Okay.

- Uh, what, in here?
- Yes, please.

Little much, right?

Kind of wins the "look at us,

aren't we fucking royalty"
award.

Nice to meet you, Mrs. Dryden.

Uh, Jackie Rohr.
Doesn't do you justice.

I know.
I've put on a little weight.

Oh, no, no, no, that's not
what I meant. I was...

Jackie, let's be
on a first-name basis.

- I'm Letitia.
- Okay.

Come on. I'll, uh,
show you the house.

Huh. House?

Where I come from, you could
fit a house in this room.

Oh, you play pool?

Yes, but not like you think.

You know,
I've seen you on the news.

You arrested those armored
car thieves in Charlestown,

shut down that drug ring
in Roxbury.

Are you some kind of superhero?

You got a cape
under that jacket?

Good morning, Mrs. Dryden.

Dominique, hi.
Um, this is Mr. Rohr.

Mr. Rohr, Dominique
is a classmate

- of Sinclair's daughter.
- Nice to meet you.

Mrs. Dryden, I, um...

Was I here on Sunday night?

You had dinner with us, yes.

I-I remember dinner.
Did I, uh, did I sleep here?

Dominique, where did you
wake up in the morning?

A-At my apartment,
but there are, um,

gaps that I-I can't recall.

Well, you had a lot of wine

and you dozed on the couch.

We had our driver take you home.

Dom, I told you that we were
gonna study upstairs.

Jackie, meet
my stepdaughter Victoria.

Hey. Jackie Rohr.

Mr. Rohr is looking out

for the family's security now.

Oh, don't tell me
Father finally fired

poor old drooling Freddie.

Uh, Victoria, your-your dad said

that you were followed into
the driveway the other night.

I want to ask you
a couple questions.

Later. I'm busy. Come on, Dom.

Uh, nice to meet you.

He's on the payroll.
You don't have to be polite.

Ah, listen, you know,
my daughter Benedetta,

- she can be...
- No, save your breath.

Victoria is a class-A bitch.

If I can't remember
two nights ago,

how will I remember how long
U Thant led the United Nations?

Don't worry. I will make you
some flash cards.

Look, we have to get you into

the Kennedy School
of Government.

You need to rule the world.

You've been studying
like crazy for weeks.

You're gonna crush the exam.
Or I will kick your ass.

Hey.

Sorry I got so drunk
the other night.

- I didn't mean to embarrass you.
- I told you,

you should've let me
and Moustafa drive you home

instead of staying
for one of Dad's nightcaps.

Lesson learned.

Uh, so, Sinclair
mentioned something

about you being harassed.

As usual, my husband's
being overly dramatic.

I had an argument
with my tennis partner.

He swung his racket at me.

It's really nothing
to sweat about.

This is your office.

Wow.

So who was your last
security guy? James Bond?

Jackie, do you like
this perfume?

Well, if that was a drug,
it would be illegal.

I can already see
how clever you are.

I'll let you settle in.

Uh, she'll need fall
and winter stuff for New York.

When you drop her at NYU, the
two of you should go shopping.

Oh, right, Sue. You know
Jackie would have a fit.

That's funny.

Last year, I'm giving you
all this shit

about not staying married
to Jackie and...

And now you're the divorced one.

The irony is intoxicating.

Do you know the Drydens?

You and Cabot
ever hang out with them?

We waved to each other
at fundraisers and the opera.

Back in the bad old days,
Sinclair Dryden's family

owned all the land
from the Common to Back Bay.

The one to watch out for
is Letitia.

She just ended an affair
with her tennis pro.

They're still cleaning
his blood off the asphalt.

- The daughter is...
- Hi, Sue.

- Hi, Benny.
- Ma, what are you doing?

I'm helping out.

I'm going to college,
not summer camp.

- I'll get this done my way.
- Okay, okay.

- You want a soda?
- Yeah.

Benny's in such a great place.

Oh, yeah, I'm so proud of her.

I mean, she's been a champion
with the recovery.

She really committed
to her sobriety.

My Clara, too.

She got her two-year chip
last weekend.

Aw. Cheers.

Can I share something?

Yeah, of course.

Clara recently told me
she's gay.

Geez. What?

Yeah.

Telling me was hard for her.
She was afraid how I'd react.

Well, God, who can blame her?
I mean, look at the world.

Uh, look at this neighborhood.

When you and I were growing up,
I mean, life sucked

for anyone who wasn't
perfect-looking, let alone gay.

Yeah, I...

I love Clara for having
the courage

to just come out
and say who she is out loud.

You know? Good for her.

Oh, I got to go.

- Well...
- I'm volunteering

at the Nichols Center
to support Clara.

They work with
AIDS patients, advocacy,

- women's reproductive rights.
- Hmm.

Only problem is
they're shorthanded.

Hey, now that your nest
is empty,

- maybe you'd want to help.
- Oh, God.

Jackie would hate that.

Yeah, but I'd love to. Yes.

Thanks, Sue.

What are you hiding,
the phone numbers

of your old
Brooklyn girlfriends?

We talked about this.

I need this to keep us safe.

All right? I-I'm not gonna be
caught off guard again.

No, I understand.

Just seeing the gun
scared me a little.

I know you feel
we need one in the house.

I just wish I felt the same.

- Did you connect with your dad?
- No.

Every time I call,
he's sleeping.

I should go with you, baby.

Hey, let's be honest.
I know you don't like my father.

That's a polite way of saying
he doesn't like me.

I know you were pissed
he didn't come check on you

at the hospital
after the shooting.

Bothered me more that he didn't
call after the miscarriage.

Well, I hope this
is nothing serious

and that he gets better fast
and you come home soon.

And you don't need
that many pair of socks.

If you overpack, I'll fear
you're not coming back.

Hey, you are the only place
I call home.

Mm, I guess I'll call Callie

and spend the night.

We haven't had
girl time in a while.

Hmm?

I love you, too.

How was your day?

I had a fun-filled luncheon
for Bangladeshi refugees.

Ooh.

- I went shopping.
- Ah.

Jackie Rohr.

Is he trustworthy?

Yes, completely. Why?

We may have a problem
with Dominique.

How so?

She's trying to put the pieces
of the other night together.

No worries. I'll talk to her.

Where is everyone?

Serving warrants in Southie.
Sosnoff Gang.

I built that case.

We all did.

Yeah, right.

Hey, hey, that's mine.

What?

That's my stapler.

Wallace needed
to staple something

the other day,
so he borrowed mine.

Give it here.

Odd, you're more concerned
about a stapler than Wallace.

Nah. God rest him.

You see the ballistics report
on the round that killed him?

Not yet.

Bullet came from your gun.

The fuck you saying, Caysen?

I'm saying you blew
Wallace's head off.

That's why you're on a desk for
the foreseeable fucking future.

This is bullshit.
Round probably ricocheted

off one of them rusted anchors.

There was nothing
between you and Wallace.

I walked the scene
with Internal Affairs.

- You that bad a fucking shot?
- Oh, fuck you, Chris.

No, fuck you, Rick!

Fuck you!

Here, take your fucking stapler.

Who's this handsome guy?

Moustafa Mody. Pleasure.

- Victoria, good time?
- Nope.

Uh, look, your father is paying
me to keep you all safe, so...

- Rah, rah.
- I'm safe.

My dad is the one
who needs help.

I just want to ask you about
the night you were followed.

It'll only take a minute.

- What happened, Vick?
- Nothing.

Moustafa, could you wait
in the other room?

No fucking way.

Okay, suit yourself.

So, Thursday night,
you're driving home.

Were you aware that
you were being followed?

- No.
- What time did you pull

- into the driveway, roughly?
- 10:30.

Uh-huh. Well, did you get
a good look at the car?

Can you tell me the make?

The car was a car.

Could you see inside?
Like, who was in there, or...?

It was dark, Einstein.

Ah.

So, the car pulls in behind you

in the driveway
and it just sits there.

I-I don't know. It was dark and
I was fucking scared, all right?

Yeah, well,
that-that sounds scary.

It's-it's interesting that,

the exact time
you were being followed,

the security cameras conked out.

I don't know anything
about security cameras.

And what time did you pull
into the driveway?

10:30, and nice try.
My dad uses that trick.

- What trick?
- Asking me the same question

twice to see if the answer
changes to prove I'm lying.

Were you at a bar
or a restaurant that night?

Seriously?

...buried alive
in an underground bunker

near the Hudson River
by NYPD detectives.

A longtime employee
of the formal-wear manufacturer

has been arrested
in connection to the kidnapping.

Upon being found,
the 68-year-old millionaire...

...increasingly likely to pass

with vehement support
from borough residents

who feel neglected
by city government.

It's right here, on the right.

Thank you.

Hey, Pop.

Hey, son.

- Hey.
- What are you doing here?

- What's with the boxes?
- Just...

- removing some clutter.
- Yeah?

You know Louie called me, right?

Said you dropped out front
like Sonny Liston back in '65.

- I was at that fight.
- Oh, I know.

I remember Moms was upset
'cause you spent the milk money

- on a train ticket to Maine.
- She was right.

Wasted a lot of hard-earned cash
going to see a fixed fight.

Ali hit him with a right
in the first round.

Fight as fixed
as the Last Supper.

What you mean?

Judas never had a chance.

Why'd you collapse?

Oh...

- No big deal.
- Mm.

Got light-headed, you know?

Thank God the ground
broke my fall.

Oh, the ground, right? Ah.

Pop, I know you.

Come on, man.

There's more going on here
than a little light-headedness.

I suss out the truth
for a living.

This, this here,
it's not gonna float.

I have cancer. Uh...

The pancreas.

But I'm A-okay.

What? You...

But th... pancreatic cancer

is, like, the most aggressive
cancer there is.

How-how long have you known?

A couple of months.

Pop, two months with pancreatic
cancer is like an eternity.

What-what, what do
they got you on?

Is it chemo, radiation?
What are we doing...

Nothing.
I didn't want any of that.

- I don't understand.
- It's simple.

I'm not doing therapies.

What... So, if-if you hadn't
fallen the other day,

- then what...
- I didn't ask you to come.

Pop, I'm back.

Oh, shit, man,
I thought I'd beat you home.

- Come here.
- What's up, man?

I got us lunch.

Did I invite you boys
to stay for lunch?

Did you know about Pop's cancer?

He told me this morning.

Enough of this
self-righteous indignation.

I'm gonna dance.

Ding dong daddy from Dumas

You ought to see me do my stuff

Ding dong dong dong ding dong

Daddy from Dumas, mm

Excuse me.

My name is Siobhan Quays,
from the ACLU.

I-I'm Lourdes Mendoza,
Hernando's sister.

This is Pepe, his son.

Nice to meet you, Pepe.

Have you spoken
to the doctors today?

They say, uh,
he-he might not walk again.

He could lose his eyesight.

He will probably have to
live out his life in a home.

Has anyone
from the construction company

or the city
come to speak with you

about insurance
or covering medical costs?

The first night in the ER, yes.

They explained that he gets
workers' compensation.

How is that enough?

I can't support Pepe

on a paycheck
that barely supports me.

I don't want you to worry.

I'm going to fight
for your family.

What are we gonna do about Pop?

We're gonna respect his wishes.

Make him comfortable.

And let him die
on his own terms.

- I disagree.
- It doesn't matter.

The decision is not up to you.

You know, when Mom
was diagnosed with cancer,

he was relentless,
fighting to keep her alive.

We... I say we get him a doctor.

I have been on point taking care
of him all this time.

Where have you been?

- That's not fair, Louie.
- Yeah, no shit.

You can't just drop in
and take charge.

He is who he is.

You know that.
Why are you forcing this?

'Cause I don't believe he's got
no more fight left in him.

And I'd miss him.

Nice shot.

Hey. You want a drink?

It's got to be five o'clock
somewhere.

So, I went through the files
of the six guys that might

- have a vendetta against you.
- Yeah?

Two are dead, two are in prison,

one is born-again
and living in Venezuela.

And number six?

Well, him I took an interest in.

Lyle Pike. I-I couldn't find
him, so I did some digging,

and it turns out
that he changed his identity.

His name, his date of birth,
his social,

the whole fucking nine...
even dyed his hair.

He's living in Worcester
hiding out

from some loan sharks
who want him dead.

So I knocked on his door
and I told him that...

if he ever came within a mile
of this zip code,

I would put his new name
and address

on the front page of The Globe.

Lyle Pike was always
a chickenshit.

I also spoke to Victoria about
the night that she was followed.

Yeah, she told me.
She wasn't happy.

Yeah, Sinclair,
I hate to tell you this,

but your daughter is lying.

The mystery car,
it never existed.

Are you certain of that?

Dead.
She made the whole thing up.

Shit.

Look, I thought
I was past all this.

Victoria's been difficult
ever since she was a child.

Uh, mood swings, anger, anxiety.

We had her seen by the best.

One doctor thought, well,
maybe she's bipolar

or slightly autistic
or something, I don't know.

She's been on meds.

Ritalin, clozapine.

It all seemed
to work for a while

while she was growing up,
but lately, her behavior

is just-just... it's worse.

Uh, yeah, I keep thinking,
maybe...

maybe-maybe I had
a hand in all this, huh?

You know, too much nose
to the grindstone.

You know what I mean.

Living next door to me
when I was six or so

was a kid named Dick Hoare.

I swear to God. Hoare.

Hoare. H-O-A-R-E.

Why his parents
would name him Dick,

yeah, I'll never understand.

But he was a good guy,
despite being latch-key.

I mean, he was without any kind
of parental supervision.

Totally on his own.

Yeah, and he turned out okay,
right?

No, actually, he fell out
of a window drunk.

Your point is?

You can tough-love a kid
and you can no-love a kid.

It doesn't matter.

They're gonna be
who they're gonna be.

I'll keep an eye on Victoria.

I will catch her if she falls.

Thank you.

Jenny, I'm so glad you're here.

Oh, I love this place.

In every corner,
another adventure.

- Hey, is that Father Doyle?
- Yeah.

He volunteers here.

I was thinking maybe
you could start

by helping me organize
today's lunch delivery.

We send meals to an AIDS hospice
over on Fremont Street.

Well, I'm ready
to roll up my sleeves.

Good. Follow me.

Hey, Sue, could you just,
could you give me a sec?

Yeah, meet me
over by the pantry.

Okay.

Mrs. Rohr.

Yeah, get formal on me,
I'll belt you.

How are you, Jenny?

- I'm good. Yeah.
- Yeah?

Also, uh, you know,
a little surprised.

I thought the Catholic Church
was kind of anti-homosexual,

let alone women's
reproductive rights.

Well, that's the Church.
That's not me.

I see you're out of uniform.

Uh, I'm on sabbatical.

Oh.

Time to take a hard look
in the mirror and just

sort out what I'm doing
with my life.

Well, facing yourself,
that takes a lot of courage.

Something wrong, Jenny?
Something on your mind?

Nah, I'm just, I'm making
lunches for the hospice.

Excuse me.

I'm looking for a Juan Correa,
the site foreman.

- He has the day off.
- Well, he was here

the day Hernando Mendoza
was injured, correct?

I don't know.
That was my day off.

Hey.

What the Sam Hill kind
of poison you giving me?

It's green tea, Pop.
A healthy change.

No wonder all those boys up in
Boston tossed the tea overboard.

I checked in with Siobhan.

She sends her love.

Decourcy,

for a big-time D.A.,
you don't lie very well.

Hey, don't start.
I ain't trying to fight.

Who's fighting?

I didn't bring the girl up.
You did.

- Decourcy.
- Yeah, thanks for coming.

- And who might you be?
- This is Dr. Baez.

Uh, Siobhan's friend Dr. Mack
recommended him. He's, uh...

What's he want?

Hello, Mr. Ward.
I'm a surgical oncologist.

Um, your son asked me to come by
for a consultation.

I'm sorry my son dragged you
here, Dr. Baez, for no reason.

Mr. Ward, maybe if I could just
take a look at you,

I might be able to suggest
alternative treatments?

God is the only medicine I need.

Now get out!

Both of you.

See you, Father.

Please, call me Diarmuid.

Or Dermo.

- Dermo?
- Yeah.

Jenny, uh, feel free to tell me
to mind my own business here,

but you really do seem
under a cloud.

Oh, well, maybe I am.
Who knows, you know?

I'm still a good listener,
even without the collar.

And you know I'm on your side.

Not always.

Yeah, true.

The hurt that I caused you

is all part of this reckoning
that I've endured.

A reckoning which may
cause me to leave

the priesthood permanently.

Sorry, here I am,
blithering on about myself

and you're the one
that's suffering.

Uh, talk to me.

Yeah, uh...

I don't know what's wrong.

I think I just got something
in my blind spot.

Is this about your father?

Your-your Aunt Lena
is a parishioner

and she likes to gossip.

Yeah, well, this might,
this might be about him.

Uh, maybe a bit more.
I don't know.

You know, I'm...

I don't know what the fuck
I'm talking about.

Sorry.

Well, Jenny, I hope you
do make peace with your da.

You can't converse with a ghost.

Unless you're Demi Moore.

- Mr. Dryden, hi.
- Hi.

- May I come in?
- Uh, of course. Please.

Great.

Uh, Letitia said
you came by the house

and you were upset
about something?

Oh, uh, n-no, I mean...

I wasn't sure
what happened after dinner.

- I kind of blacked out.
- I'd be happy to explain.

But why don't you let me
pour some wine first, huh?

Lafite Rothschild 1963.

Robert Parker rated it 100.

Thank you.

Yes, so...

- that night...
- Did we sleep together?

Jesus, no.

I'm sorry. I've been, um...

I woke up the next morning
feeling as if,

you know, I had, uh...

like I'd been with someone.

A dream, perhaps?

I know the feeling.

When I first met Letitia,
I dreamed

about being in bed with her
long before we ever were.

The mind is a marvelous,

if somewhat confused
piece of machinery,

and fantasy is
an aphrodisiac, huh?

The truth is,

you have been attracted to me
since the day we met.

My wife noticed first.

You're probably right.
I'm sorry.

No need to apologize. Hmm?

Nothing happened.

I'm a happily married man.

Oh, Jesus.

Hello?

I'm sorry, Victoria.

Sorry for what?

I know what happened...

...at your house.

D-Dominique.

Something I couldn't stop.

Dominique,
you're not making sense.

Tell me what happened, slowly.

- I'm sorry.
- Dominique?

I'm so sorry.

Dominique, talk to me.

He was here.

Well, this beats the fuck
out of pissing in a coffee cup

on a cold winter stakeout
in the North End.

You fit in well here, Jackie.

Who needs a full pension
with perks like these, right?

Yeah, amen.

Well, Letitia,
she raves about you.

- Nice lady.
- Yeah, she come on to you yet?

What? No, no.
What are you talking about?

Ah, come on,
you don't have to make excuses.

I know her.
You're her type exactly.

- Meaning?
- Unavailable.

Ah.

Well, you know, infidelity makes
a monster out of the best of us.

Just like your buddy

the Minotaur over here.

I was never much for the Greeks,
but that one story,

that really struck a nerve.

So, Poseidon is pissed
at Minos, the king of Crete,

for not sacrificing
a prize bull to him,

so he makes
Minos's wife Pasiphaë

fall in love
with the same prize bull.

And she gets a slave
to-to build a cow out of wood

and hollow it out,
and she climbs inside

and the bull fucks her
and bingo, a monster is born.

Get the fuck out of my way!

Dominique is dead!
She's fucking dead.

- Hey, whoa, whoa, hey.
- She-she overdosed last night.

You want to give my daughter
some space here?

What went on there?

Close the
fucking door behind you.

You saw her last night.

What-what,
what are you talking about?

You saw her last night!

What are you talking about?

- What did you do to her?
- Just go.

Shh, just calm down, calm down.

Do you know why
she died, you son of a bitch?

I didn't know she died.

What did you do to her?

I didn't do
anything to her, honey.

- Come on, now.
- I don't believe you.

I don't believe you.
You're lying.

No. Calm down.

Just calm down.

Don't tell me to calm down.

I know you. You're lying.

What did you do to her?