All language subtitles for New.Amsterdam.01x05.-.Keep.The.Change

Previously on New Amsterdam.

He will not grow old.

I'm a 65-year-old man.

You're also my son.

You will not die...

I never had a coronary
of a woman before.

Until you find the one...

We're separated.

And your souls are wed...

Is it that obvious?

I almost died.

Hey, let the good times roll.

Hi, my name is John
and I'm an alcoholic.

He's got this bizarre sense of humor.

I haven't had a drink in 15,495 days.

This weird past lives thing...

You're either the luckiest
man alive or the unluckiest.

Well, that'll depend on whether
you'll have dinner with me tonight.

Now that was flirting.

Definitely flirting.

Do you believe in true love?

I've waited a very long time for this.

Everyone is intimidated by a shark. Become
a Card Shark AMERICASCARDROOM.COM

The truth, John.

That's all I needed.

What took you so long?

I had to be sure.

A gray hair.

I'm mortal.

You want to eat again?

Ever?

Come on, Sara.

I'll cook for you.

I need a detective!

I have information on a homicide.

Santori,

you're up.

Yes, sarge.

Come on.

Sara, I need to see you.

Between shifts then.

Please?

The cops said it was a heroin overdose,
but that's wrong.

Ollie's against heroin.

All drugs, all alcohol.

That's Ollie.

O-I-I-i-e.

Tomorrow night.

All right.

Hold on here a sec.

You're Ollie.

No, I'm Mick.

M- i-c-k.

Ollie is dead.

And you think he was murdered.

You don't think he O.D.'ed

I know he didn't.

'Sobriety first.'

Every day he said that.

Ollie helped me stop drinking.

One day at a time.

Five long days.

Come on you're drunk now.

And you smell like mangos!

My friend was murdered!

I've got this one.

Mick, Mick, let's get some coffee.

You need to talk about your friend?

His junkie friend!

He was sober!

And he was murdered!

Assaulting a police officer.

B-a-d!

Manhattan homicide to central.

We need a bus, possible edp.

Tasered at this location.

Roger.

Cheers.

Everybody.

1964 East 54th Street.

I worry about people who don't drink.

I don't trust 'em.

He's drinking water.

It's bad for your health, man.

Ever seen a camel?

You like hairy humps?

Handmade suit, pinky ring, broken nose?

Gee, wonder what he does for a living.

Mafia.

Button man.

Enforcer.

Hey, where you going?

He whacked six people this year,
I kid you not.

Last thanksgiving, took out a turkey
for Lucky Luciano.

You're gonna get yourself killed.

Camel man, I don't think so.

Ladies and gentleman, a warm dutchman
hi-dee-ho for Omar York,

the best horn man in New York city.

Get some help!

Dad!

You all right?

No one believes me.

I'm fine, sarge. I'm ok.

Yeah, a stun gun.

Are you kidding me?

Cancel the bus.

We're giving him a ride.

What?

=http:
/subland. 5286. cn=-

sync:
baozi ??????; edited by rogard

New Amsterdam SO1EO5

Ollie.

I did it.

I brought help.

One day at a time.

35 years.

Needle mark.

Csu found a bindle of-
straight flush, killer dope.

I want a full tox screen.

I'd have the needle residue tested, too.

If CSU had found one.

Next of kin?

Next stop, Potter's Field.

My hands are still buzzing.

Cocktail time.

Expensive test.

The new sarge isn't gonna like it.

Put it on a rush.

Priority request.

Oh, come on, man.

I'm parched.

It's not workin' out
for you, the drinking?

You sound like Ollie.

Call me if you want to stop.

All right.

What's this about?

Ollie played guitar right-handed.

Right-handed junkies shoot dope
in their left arms, usually.

Sherlock marquez.

And if he OD'ed,

where's the needle?

What's this about for you?

I know how you feel.

I blacked out once, woke up in Cuba.

They think you're crazy.

Crazy stories...

Chasin' down John Wilkes Booth,

throwin' the high hard
one to Emily Dickinson...

How you doin'?

I'm ok...

If you're not here to kill me.

You've been in a lock-down
psych ward for two days.

What?

No visitors, not even the
kid that signed you in,

the horn player.

You're 'ok'?

Who are you?

I'm an alcoholic.

Same as you.

Maybe we can help each other.

Oh, my.

The name is Frank.

Give me a call when you want to stop.

Omar signed me in?

Keep the change.

New York city takes care of its own.

And that is what big apple
shelters are gonna do.

As a city councilman, my job is to
solve problems any way I can.

Now, when I told my wife Daphne that
the project had run out of money,

Daphne persuaded the great Chris Duncan
to perform a benefit for us,

and today, the first big apple is open.

Daphne?

Thanks, Ben.

I know some of you are skeptical.

You know what shelters
in this city are like.

If you're lucky enough to get a bed,
odds are you'll also get robbed.

Or killed.

Big apple isn't just about beds.

It's about education,
rehab, job training.

There.

Getting out of the
shelters, back into life.

So, if you need a little help,
big apple is finally here.

Hey, this is our spot!

Get out!

Cool out.

Ok?

Did Ollie have a hiding spot
where he kept his stuff?

You're out flyin' the flag,
you gotta have a good spot.

Hey. I'm Daphne Tucker.

You need a place to stay tonight?

No!

I live here!

Don't yell at her.

Hey, man.

The tuckers are for real.

They gave me a job driving
them and my own place.

I need a drink...

Now.

If they don't want help,
nothing you can do.

Show me the hiding spot.

This is about the overdose.

You know anything about that?

In the last two years, there have been
seven drug-related deaths in this park.

The problem is not going to fix itself.

If we don't do something to
help these people, who will?

Oliver Hardin.

This is just a list of his AA meetings.

That's it.

Look at this.

What?

Don't tell me you know what
weirdass lock this fits.

Babe Ruth's secret hot dog locker?

You ordered a tox screen
on the homeless OD?

It didn't add up, sarge.

The vic was right-handed.

Ok, good, at least you had some clues.

Here I was thinkin' your
partner's was a drunk,

just wanted to believe
this guy was sober.

Methadone.

Fatal dose, five times over.

Killer dope was a set-up.

M.E. ruled it a homicide.

Next time, just run it by me.

I like her.

Why?

Because she just backed up her partner?

Oh, no, wait, that was me.

Hamilton Arms.

Flophouse hotel on Barrow, public lockers.

I'm like 90% sure.

Where are you going?

Who's that?

He's nobody.

Howard, alcoholic.

Hi, Howard.

It's supposed to be anonymous.

I'm supposed to feel
safe in these rooms.

I see photographers outside my meeting,
I don't feel safe.

Takin' pictures of celebrities
leaving my meeting...

I feel like havin' a bottle of vodka,

a fistful of percs, and
punchin' someone's lights out.

Pictures don't matter.

Sobriety, that's what counts.

Sorry.

Who are you?

Chris, alcoholic, addict.

Hi, Chris.

The real Chris.

Who I am out in the world,
that's the other Chris.

Chris Duncan, the rock star.

See, he's the famous one.

Everywhere he goes,
they take his picture.

Problem is, the real
Chris needs to be here.

If I don't go to meetings, I shoot dope.

I'm dead.

Pictures don't matter.

Bein' honest is all that matters.

You get a notebook, pencil,
you write down all your secrets.

Writes a moral inventory
of your whole life.

However long that takes.

You write your worst secret
at the top of the list,

the one thing you swore
you'd take to the grave.

And then you keep going.

If you're fearless, you're thorough,
you tell the absolute truth.

You get clean.

I'm John, I'm an alcoholic.

Hi, John.

I wanna be honest in here,
because that's what I was taught.

A guy named Ollie used to come here.

If you knew him, I'd like
to talk after the meeting.

- I'm investigating his death.
- A cop?

Working a meeting?

I earned this seat.

That went well.

Only thing in Ollie's locker.

Oh, boy.

Big deal.

Old guy had an old guitar.

Old ain't bad, with guitars or men.

A gibson I double o, early 1930s.

Mr. Robert Johnson's axe of choice.

Good shape.

You could get six, eight grand for it.

That's why a homeless guy had it.

Who's Robert Johnson?

Who's Mozart?

Who's Charlie Parker?

Who's Chano Pozo?

Cuban percussionist.

Used to play big band bebop with Diz.

Co-wrote 'Manteca'.

Ouch.

Robert Johnson invented the blues.

Sold his soul to the devil to do it.

For what, immortality?

Who wants that?

Played this thing like no one
ever has, before or since.

You dig chano, my man RJ
will melt your brain.

6,000?

He's on crack.

You're right.

The guitar isn't worth what Omar said.

Not this one.

Print that out.

This one might've been Robert Johnson's.

It's worth a little more.

320,000 and it gets better.

Purchased at auction by Chris Duncan.

Small world.

Chris raised money for
the big apple shelter.

How did Ollie get it?

The shelter benefit
was Chris's last gig.

He cancels everything...

Big tour, new record, checks
himself into new horizons next day.

Doesn't tell a soul.

How'd you know?

Lucky guess.

Look who's here.

Mr.'I don't feel safe'.

The cop?

The cop.

This your cop friend?

Who's today's target?

Chris Duncan?

There he is!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop!

Need to see Chris Duncan.

Chris?

Decoy.

There he is!

Sara, I'd like you to meet...

Omar.

A real pleasure.

Wow.

Not a lot of men can pull that off.

He doesn't deserve you.

So, we're on a date.

I need some date stuff.

What about your family?

Tell me about your family.

Not much to tell.

You know about mine.

The Dillanes, of greenwich,
newport and New York city.

Biggest private house on Park Avenue.

My great grandmother.

She thought bigger was better.

So did the old man's mistress.

The ballet dancer.

Made him hire Stanford White.

Family secret?

I thought so.

No such thing.

So, what about the Amsterdams?

My father...

I left home when I was 14.

I thought he'd fight me on it.

He didn't.

He still around?

Long time gone.

My mother, too.

What did he do?

The best he could.

John, I need details.

I've gotta get you drunk,
loosen your tongue.

Omar!

I don't drink.

Oh.

Bet that's a good story.

Good night, guys.

Good night, Omar.

Young white man with a colored child?

No day at the beach.

You struggle through god
knows what growing him up.

Don't give up now.

You want your son back,
start writing, do the work.

My whole life.

Might take a while.

You like it?

Your son walkin' past
you like you don't exist.

What happens when I'm done?

You read it.

Out loud.

To another human being.

Like me, for example.

The past is the past.

Everybody's got one.

You're not gonna tell me
anything I haven't heard before.

Hey, Frank.

You got more of these?

I have told you, I have
no idea where Chris is.

You took pictures at the benefit.

You know what he looks like.

Backstage pictures.

Revealing, personal.

No.

I sell those, mate.

Not with an expired work visa.

Mate.

Fine.

Chris was so high he needed a
stepladder to scratch his ass.

There.

Looks cropped.

Hang on.

It's Ollie.

They invited all the guys from the park.

Free food.

You need to take a picture of Chris
Duncan, right now, where do you go?

The man likes a high thread count.

Five star hotels.

Good luck.

Does he register under fake names?

That's why I say 'good luck.'

What names?

Bye-bye now.

Immigration, you got them
on speed dial, right?

'Jim Hendrix.' 'Bud Holly.'

His dead heroes.

I thought Chris Duncan was in rehab.

You don't think he has something
to do with the park overdose.

He's a person of interest.

He just strolls out of new horizons.

He's out now.

We thought you might know where he is.

No.

You were on his list
of approved visitors.

Which he made up when he got there.

In withdrawal, out of his mind.

Intake office.

Already more requests than beds.

If there's nothing else...

Well, actually, if you
wouldn't mind telling me-

Thanks for your help, mrs. Tucker.

Ah, Daphne.

The missing wife.

Detectives Amsterdam and Marquez.

My husband, councilman Ben Tucker.

I never see her anymore.

One of the park guys, they're
investigating his death.

The overdose.

Oliver Hardin.

Guys like that, that's
why she's doing this.

When you've fallen that far
down, no resources, no hope...

Right out front, sir.

Great parking space.

Good job, Bob.

If there's anything I can do.

Thanks for your help.

She didn't visit Chris, but she
knows he was at new horizons?

Not worth pursuing?

Oh, no.

I picked up her cell by accident.

Easy mistake.

They look so much alike.

Three calls from the Kempler hotel.

Swank place.

You gonna get a warrant for every room?

Jim Morrison, please.

Nope. I'm sorry.

I meant Johnson. Mr. Robert Johnson.

Yes, Bob Johnson.

Ohh.

Thank you.

Bob's not taking calls at the moment.

Oh.

Hey, brother.

This belongs to someone inside.

Thanks.

You forgot the key, baby.

Nag, nag, nag.

Chris?

Eva?

Just like Ollie.

Not quite.

This one's rich, white, and famous.

His driver's license, cut in half.

What's this?

Planning a party?

A list of names.

I never saw nor contacted
my parents again.

I heard later they had believed
I had died in the Indian wars.

I had just enough money
in my pocket for a drink.

I forgot all about my errand.

I returned home as the sun was setting.

But I hand that couldn't lose
and no money left to bet with.

Instead of thinking of Fanny
and what she'd been through,

I satisfied my own cry by...

the battlefield in France
during the first world war,

I put another man in mortal danger
in order to save my own son.

I stole the formula...

While winning the affections
of a good woman there,

it became a game to me,

I wasted precious time with
a son and wife I dearly loved

to chase fame and fortune.

It's a list of people
he's hurt in the past.

People he needs to get right-

right. I almost forgot,
the crucial AA angle.

Whoever Tara Brown Brooklyn is,
it's at the top of his list.

The worst thing he did.

Bad enough for Tara Brown
Brooklyn to kill him.

Or have an idea of who did.

AA's the connection.

It's a theory.

Here on earth, we human
detectives explore...

several theories as we gather the facts.

I got this one.

Ok.

Marquez, stay with the vic.

Run down the drug angle with the M.E.

Let's find out where Chris
Duncan's been since rehab,

while mister sober over here finds
out what Tara Brown Brooklyn means

and what that has to do with
the price of beans in Boston.

Maybe he knocked her up,
wrote a crummy song about it.

Santori.

You got your stun gun?

Chris Duncan?

There's a singer by that name.

That's the one.

How would I know Chris Duncan?

Not a lot of white rock
singers on this block.

Tara Brown. Fort Greene, Brooklyn.

You're the only one.

Look, my baby's sleeping,
my son's at school.

I gotta take my shot.

You could've told me at the door
you didn't know Chris Duncan.

You didn't have to let me in.

You're a detective.

I thought maybe you could help me.

The cops that are on the
case, they've given up.

Jason.

My son...

He was nine.

I sent him to the bodega.

The baby needed milk.

He got hit by a car.

Killed.

Hit-and-run.

Who would do something like that?

Kill my baby... Just drive away?

Tara, when did this happen?

The hit and run was the same
night as the shelter benefit.

Chris has a place in Park Slope.

He's loaded, going home.

He kills a kid.

Next day he checks into rehab.

Cuts up his driver's license.

Well, M.E.

Ruled Chris' death a homicide.

Methadone O.D. Same as Ollie.

Chris was going to come
clean with Tara Brown,

but someone killed him
before he had the chance.

Why kill Ollie?

What's the connection?

Are you John?

Yeah.

I'm sorry, but I have some bad news.

Frank is dead.

Heart attack.

We kept him alive for a while last
night, but he didn't have a chance.

Congenital arrhythmia.

Since he was a kid.

He never said.

When he turned down the
morphine, that's when I knew.

He wanted to die sober.

Hmm.

I got 93 days.

God knows why, but when
Ruby shoots Oswald...

That's it for me.

Good-bye, scotch.

Thanks for coming.

No choice.

Frank told me if I didn't,

I'd start drinkin' again
and die a hosrible death

he was sorry he couldn't
hear your stuff.

He said you gotta find
somebody else quick.

Another human being.

That's it?

Who are you, Jack the Ripper?

You're supposed to read
your list to somebody else.

Ollie was Chris Duncan's
'somebody else'.

He heard Chris' confession.

So, they met at the aa meeting.

Chris liked him.

He was a musician.

For a big celebrity, who's the safest
person to tell your deepest secrets to?

A homeless guy.

Chris read it to Ollie.

Ollie was killed by
someone who thought he...

was gonna give Chris
up on the hit-and-run.

And the guitar?

It was a gift.

Chris was grateful.

Something happens when you do this.

I would've given the moon to
the person who heard mine.

I walked. He followed.

Did you see that?

Sarge, we're talking about
two murders and a dead kid.

You go, girl.

Ollie was killed because Chris
told him about the hit-and-run.

Chris was killed because
he was about to...

spill his guilty rock
star guts to Tara Brown,

the hit-and-run's mother.

Who killed them?

Ooh. Don't wait for him.

See, this is a chick thing.

We're bonding.

Whoever else was in Chris Duncan's car.

Bonded.

It might be- it might be skipping.

What's wrong?

I googled you.

Oh, no.

I feel violated.

It's not funny.

I mean, what are you?

The CIA?

Witness protection?

Sara.

You're something, because five
years ago, you didn't exist.

I'm a cop.

Cops aren't in public databases.

Your partner is.

The chief of detectives is.

Family members, schools.

Ask me anything. I'll tell you.

Why aren't you in public databases?

Must be real bad.

Something happened.

I had to become someone else.

What is it?

An undercover thing?

What's your real name?

John Amsterdam.

I like it.

I'd like to keep it.

I'd like to keep you.

Trust me.

Do I have a choice?

No.

I had no choice.

I had to tell you the truth.

Might take a while.

I, uh- I brought sandwiches.

The truth about what?

You probably want to sit down.

So, what?

You some kind of superhero?

Is this your secret lair?

No.

You know how I always looked
younger than the other dads?

Just listen, Omar.

Please.

The first family I abandoned was my own.

In 1620, when I came to the new
world, I was 14 years of age.

Hey!

I don't care about papers.

A black SUV.

It hit him.

Never even slowed down.

Bad news.

Chris Duncan never owned a black SUV.

Hit-and-run in Fort Greene.

Nine-year-old killed.

That's it.

The whole story.

And in the same day's paper...

That's the good news.

He did. Ben Tucker.

A black SUV, city-owned.

Driver reported it stolen that
night, during the concert.

Recovered a week later.

Stripped.

I think we better talk
to the councilman.

No.

Not Ben.

Why are we here?

Looks different when you stop.

A real place.

A neighborhood.

What are you doing?

It makes sense.

Take me home right now.

You talked to Chris in rehab.

He called you from the hotel.

You were sleeping with Chris Duncan.

You can't do this.

After the show, he's
out of his mind on dope.

Wants to go home. To Brooklyn.

Your husband's car, it's right there.

No.

That didn't happen.

Jason Brown.

That's his name.

Look out!

The boy you killed.

He was nine years old.

The car knocked him 28 feet.

He landed right there.

Killing a kid.

A secret like that, keeping
it inside, it eats you up.

Now, Chris knew that.

You gotta tell someone.

If you don't...

It kills ya.

Watch out!

Who was driving?

You're crazy.

You're gonna kill yourself.

Telling someone.

Letting go of the secret.

I can't.

It's the only way.

Who was driving?

Get out of the street!

Who was driving?

Who was driving?!

I was!

I was driving.

And two people were killed
to protect your secret.

Yeah?

Bob Webson.

Ben Tucker's driver.

You write in haiku?

He's on a methadone maintenance program.

Injectable doses.

Like what killed Ollie and Chris Duncan.

We'd like to bring him in.

We're the only two women in the house.

You notice that?

Hard not to.

Try harder.

We're cops, not women.

Our bond is our work.

That's it.

Councilman's driver? Bob.

Go ahead. Pick him up.

Marquez.

Look where'd you get your shoes?

My wife killed someone?

A kid?

She says she panicked.

A bad accident, a strung
out rock star in the car.

She told me that she was going to
go back to the shelter that night.

You didn't know about
the accident until now?

Uh...

In her statement, your wife
says she told you the next day.

I would've reported it.

She says she wanted to,
you told her not to.

You said you'd 'take care of it.'

Come on.

I've got her statement.

I gotta get yours.

Please.

It's my job.

Please.

Thanks, councilman.

Her statement says Chris
Duncan called her from rehab.

I believe that.

As part of his recovery program,
Chris told someone about the accident.

A homeless guy.

Ollie Hardin.

So, let me guess.

Daphne says that she told me,

and I killed Ollie to
protect our little secret.

No, Bob did.

You had him shoot Ollie
up with methadone.

Made it look like an O.D.

My driver.

He can barely drive.

Bob was terrified of being homeless.

Ben played on that fear.

If the secret came out, he'd
be back on the streets.

So I made bob kill Ollie?

Chris Duncan, too.

My wife...

She's a very sick woman.

And I've spent years
pretending that she wasn't.

The sleeping around, the lies.

You think Chris Duncan was the first?

It was her.

All of it.

What, you think it was Bob's
idea to report the car stolen?

To kill two people?

The guy's dumber than a box of hair.

She probably didn't even have to
sleep with him more then once.

No, I'm sure it's true.

Everything she told you...

Except she did it.

I didn't say a word.

I didn't tell him anything.

I stood by you.

Tell him.

She's right.

I think this is yours, sarge.

She left it on my desk.

A shopping list.

No one's gonna believe her.

It's her word against mine.

Well, his, too, when Bob
hears what you just said.

Take him away.

Ok, Sara.

I could pick you up at work.

Oh, me, too.

So, we could be tired together.

Exhausted.

Ok.

Sure, I...

You really want help, Mick?

Thanks for coming.

I'm glad to be here.

I want to thank my pal Johnny, my buddy.

Who-who are yow?

Mick.

M-i-c-k.

Alcoholic?

Huge.

You know that.

Johnny helped out Ollie,
and now he's helpin' me.

You know, no one's ever
left me anything before.

Johnny tells me this gitbox is
worth a little dough-re-mi,

but I'd never sell it.

I'm gonna learn how to play it.

Stopped drinkin'...

Gotta do somethin'.

Right?

And when I stop bein' an alcoholic...

No.

You don't get cured.

You get better.

That's what Ollie always said.

Mick!

Alcoholic!

One day!

Hi, Mick.

Keep the change.

Thanks.

I blacked out.

When I woke up, I was in
a place for the insane.

'stranger told me you put me in there.'

That's when I stopped drinking.

? my son.

You deserve the truth.

You all right?

Oh, boy.

John, I'm really beat.

Me, too.

That's why I'm here.

The second we hit my bed, I am out.

I'm not going home with you.

I can't be with you, John.

I don't understand.

That's the problem.

Neither do I.

I don't understand how I can be with
someone who won't tell me the truth.

If I don't understand something,
I can't make it work.

I'm a doctor.

I need for things have to make sense.

The heart attack.

That's what this is about.

No, your heart.

There's something hidden in there.

Something big.

Some dark secret you won't tell me.

This is me.

Right.

John Amsterdam.

The man with anomalous
blood and no past at all,

whose father did 'the best he could.'

well, he could've done a little better.

He could've taught you to be honest.

He didn't.

I picked that up myself.

Tell me I'm wrong.

Tell me you're not hiding something.

Tell me you were really undercover,
that's why there's no history.

If it's true, I will believe it.

I promise.

That's what I thought.

You want the truth?

The truth is I'm 400 years old.

The truth is Omar is my son, one
of 63 children I've fathered.

John-

I've tried to be careful
because I can't stay with them.

I'm immortal, they're not.

- The truth is--
- Stop.

Just stop.