All language subtitles for Limitless S01E13 Stop Me Before I Hug Again-eng

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__

- What do you got?
- Hey. Nothing good.

Woman named Annemarie O'Hare

didn't show up for a date tonight,

so her boyfriend asked the superintendent

to check her apartment.

Someone raped her,
stabbed her 40 times,

and then strangled her with her own...

This isn't very fun, is it?

♪ He's got game
to make you smile ♪

- ♪ He'll make you say "my gosh" ♪
- My gosh.

♪ It's Cookies and Cuddles Corner ♪

♪ With Josh-o-saurus Josh. ♪

Oh, hi, Brian.

I haven't seen you in quite a while.

Yeah, that's because your
show hasn't been on TV

in, what, like, 15 years?

Cool subconscious.

I've been having fun down here

for the past decade and a half.

Why are we in my childhood bedroom?

What's going on?

Nasty stuff.

Stabbing.

Strangulation.

Traumatic events.

I'm here to help.

But you can't just interrupt.

If you're in my subconscious,

aren't you supposed to stay subconscious?

The FBI has to catch bad guys.

And sometimes it's scary,
and we use scary words,

but what else are we supposed to do?

Hmm, how about, just for this one,

every time someone

is going to use a scary word,

we come up with a word that's better?

You mean, like, we say
something nice or super-fun?

Sure. Like, if I still had my show,

I would tell the kids
to play along at home.

Sound good?

Then let's get back to the action.

Someone played Cowboys
and Indians with her.

Tickled her 40 times.

And then cuddled her with her own unicorn.

Well, the soda pop spatter indicates

that she was still playing air guitar

before she was sent to an
awesome farm in the country.

But she didn't go down easy.

Take a look at the ring
finger on her left hand.

The ring finger's gone.

That's the trademark of the Marrying Man.

We've got a serial hugger on our hands.

"The Marrying Man"?

Really?

Why do bad guys get cool nicknames?

Shouldn't they get stupid nicknames?

I don't know, it's just what they call him.

Well, you should give
him a nickname he hates.

You should give all the bad
guys nicknames they hate.

Rule number two.

Whenever you give a hugger a nickname,

say the word "mister" followed
by a delicious ice cream flavor.

Everybody got it?

The ring finger's gone.

That's the trademark of
Mr. Pralines and Cream.

We have a serial hugger on our
hands, and he's in New York.

We should call Naz, this
is an all-hands-on-deck.

I don't think Naz is gonna
be running point on this.

David Englander's been
chasing Mr. Pralines and Cream

ever since he hugged his first victim.

Right, the profiler.

David Englander.

Everyone acted like it was this
huge deal that he was coming.

He caught a notorious hugger
named Mr. Butter Pecan

last year, and now he's got a
book on the best seller list.

Everyone at the CJC acted

like he was some kind of a rock star.

He's here.

Wow.

Mr. Pralines and Cream.

Now, I'll bet you think
you've seen everything.

Got yourself assigned to
the shiny New York division,

must make you feel good.

Hell, I'll bet you think

the Pope ought to stop his sermon

whenever you burp up a thought.

Well, I promise you,

you have never seen anything
like Mr. Pralines and Cream.

Oh, sure, he... he plays Cowboys
and Indians with his victims.

He tickles his victims.

He cuddles them... with their own unicorn.

By now you're thinking, "Well,
what's the big deal? Come on.

I've seen women tickled,
I've seen them cuddled."

Not like this, you haven't.

The women he hugs,

cuts off their cool dinosaur
toys to take 'em home with him.

You are about to stare into the
abyss, ladies and gentlemen.

And you'll be damned lucky if
the only thing that it does

is stare back at you.

Is everyone ready?

Sure.

Good.

Now, without exception,
every single one of the hugs

took place inside the home of the victim,

with no sign of forced entry.

That means that Mr. Pralines and Cream...

has the ability to freely gain access.

I think he works for a utility company

or poses as someone who does.

I have been looking at
a Mr. Patrick Lee Boyd

for some time.

Excuse me.

You, uh, consultant?

Why... are you toying with your phone?

Sorry, I'm just looking at the
case from a different angle.

Well, let's all try to stay

on the same page for the moment, shall we?

No problem, definitely
want to be a team player.

It's just, I'm pretty sure
Mr. Pralines and Cream

is one of two guys I found...

Jason Braun or Ian Aston.

And, what, you've had the
case file for...

for... for, what, an hour?

40 minutes.

But you don't have to work
for the power company

to get easy access to a building.

You can also be really
good at picking locks.

I may or may not do it... often.

The point is, I just checked
locksmiths in the other cities

where the huggings happened,

I've been texting back and
forth with the owners,

and as it turns out,

there are two locksmiths
who have lived in the cities

where Mr. Pralines and
Cream has hugged women

and now live in New York...
Jason Braun and Ian Aston.

Seems worth checking out, right?

Jason Braun turned out to be a cool guy.

I even got his Xbox Live handle
so we could hang out online.

Ian Aston slammed the door in our face,

which made sense once we
established a connection

between him and a couple of the victims.

That led to a warrant to search
a storage locker he kept.

And that is where we found...

his trophy stash.

Those aren't
finger bones, are they?

Yeah.

Look, the finger bones are a no-go.

When you talked about 'em before,

they were cool dinosaur toys.

So if you show them,

I want them to be...

Cool dinosaur toys. All right, Josh.

It doesn't matter what
the trophies looked like;

we got him.

I have been chasing Mr.
Pralines and Cream for years.

You caught him in a day.

What's your story?

Fresh eyes.

No, I know talent when I see
it, and you're the real thing.

Well, some of the time.

Well, I want to work with you.

Now, Behavioral Analysis

is the top appointment at the FBI, Brian.

We're the profilers.

The freaking rock stars.

And we are tapping you on the shoulder.

Okay.

So what do you say, Mr. Brian Finch?

Want to come visit Quantico,

help me catch some of the
worst people on the planet?

Would you please stop shouting "road trip"?

Come on, it's not like I wouldn't be

doing anything important.

The Behavioral Analysis
Unit works on big cases.

Mr. Fudge Brownie, Mr.
Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough,

Miss Mango Sorbet...

- Did you read that off the Web site?
- Maybe.

Behavioral Analysis also works
tirelessly at self-promotion.

David Englander more than anyone.

Yeah, he's weird.

But he's also a master at Bureau politics.

If I don't at least give
him a crack at you,

I'll never hear the end of it, so...

you can go to Quantico
for a couple of days.

- Yes!
- What?

As long as you do not discuss NZT.

No one at Behavioral Analysis,
including Englander,

has been read into those files.

Mum's the word.

You're gonna need your NZT
while you're in Virginia.

That has to be properly supervised.

I have a job here.

It's just a couple of days.

Fine.

Looks like we're going on a...

Road trip.

Synced by emmasan
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Right. Almost ready.

There's no way you're
putting all this in my car.

And there's no way you're
bringing a bong...

Or anything that you would
put in a bong... in my car.

Fine, I guess I can rough
it for a couple of days.

One bag, one backpack.

So, as it turns out, not
only is Rebecca a good partner,

she also checks most of the boxes you want

in a road-trip buddy.

She's down for Punch Buggy.

Like, really down. She can throw a jab.

- ♪ You're a rich girl.. ♪
- And she's more than willing

to sing along when her
favorite song comes on.

♪ You can rely on the old man's money ♪

♪ You can rely on the old man's money ♪

- ♪ It's a bitch, girl... ♪
- Whoa, this is a sweet sound system.

You know what would sound awesome on this

- is Artificial Brain.
- Please don't touch that

with your dusty orange fingers.

- It's voice-activated.
- Really?

That's awesome.

Car, find Artificial Brain.

After this song.

We didn't hit our first hiccup

until Virginia.

- But it was kind of a doozy.
- Hey, that was a good song.

Can I ask you something?

Yeah.

I've been thinking about Senator Morra.

The shooting.

Brandy Jo Hawkins shot him
from over 3,300 yards away.

If you believe her story.

Oh, yeah?

Not only does she make an impossible shot,

but she does it while she's sick?

Well, she was... on NZT, right?

Yes, the shooter was on NZT,
which is weird enough,

'cause there's not a lot of it out there,

but I was watching footage of
Morra from when it happened,

and... I swear, it's almost like he dodged.

Like, before the gunshot.

Like he saw it coming
from over 3,300 yards.

Do you think he's on NZT?

Bad.

Very bad.

Also dangerous.

For me, for Rebecca...

I have to nip this in the bud.

Why? I mean...

Why would a guy like that need NZT?

Well, he wasn't always a guy like that.

He was a broke, struggling writer,

and now he's running for president.

The pattern's pretty familiar, right?

Like the people in my dad's group or...

Me.

It's all right... you can say it.

It does kind of feel
like a stretch, though.

You know?

And the thing is, I'm the only one

that's immune to the side
effects of NZT, right?

You're the only one

that we know about.

Maybe Edward Morra's just, uh,

your garden-variety late bloomer.

I'm just curious.

Just curious?

In my experience,

when Rebecca Harris is "just curious,"

stuff gets figured out.

Like Chinatown level stuff.

Welcome to my house.

This is where we catch

the worst killers and perverts there are.

Welcome to my house.

This is where we catch

the worst huggers and
silly geese there are.

Badass.

Ready to meet the bad guys?

They were out of office space,

so they set us up in something they call

"The Evil Minds Research Museum."

It's where they keep the
journals and paintings

and weird trophies from these guys,

but who wants to look at that stuff?

Wouldn't you rather see
some adorable kittens?

And who doesn't like lollipops?

Or balloon animals?

Isn't that more fun?

While Rebecca did what work
she could on our CJC case,

I looked into a guy they
called Mr. Rainbow Sherbet.

It didn't take me long to figure out

that he was probably a
janitor named Russell Lawlor.

And that night,

I ventured out to grab a bite to eat

near the hotel.

Hi.

Sorry. If you're busy, I can
totally sit somewhere else.

No, don't be ridiculous.

Is something wrong?

No.

So, we got into a routine.

During the day,

I went through open case files.

I checked out Mr. Mint Chip.

He was a guy in Louisville
named Travis Seward.

The guy they called Mr. Rocky Road

actually turned out to be a guy

and his sick girlfriend working together.

Double scoop, I guess you'd call it.

At night, I did everything I could

to keep Rebecca from thinking
about Senator Morra and NZT.

I pulled out my best material.

How I got expelled from middle school

for smoking in the chem lab.

How I almost got arrested

for breaking into the Central Park stables.

I mean, it's not a long-term solution,

but it'll have to do until
I think of something better.

A few days of that,

and it was time to head back to New York.

There sits our golden boy.

I don't know about that.

I just hope I was helpful.

Helpful?

You're a superstar, man.

Game can recognize game, right?

Oh, hey, this is for you.

I wanted to thank you.

Oh, hey, signed and everything.

This represents more than
just a parting gift, Brian.

See, I want you to read it,

and I want you to consider
spending more time with us.

We could make it worth your while, Brian.

The FBI

is no place to build a nest egg,
you know what I mean?

What do you mean?

People just can't get
enough of this stuff, Brian.

You know?

The inner workings of a depraved mind.

Yeah.

I got seven figures for that.

And I've already sold the movie rights.

You build a reputation here,

hunting madmen,

and you can do good

and you can do well.

Man, Englander's actually
kind of a douche, huh?

One of a breed.

Yeah.

Something in his book telling you that?

Well, it's just sloppy.

It's about Mr. Butter Pecan,

the guy who hugged all
those high school kids.

His real name is Andre Hannan.

He was always a loner,

got picked on a lot in school,

so Englander figured out

that he was targeting the kinds of guys

who made fun of him.

So, captain of the football team

and the prom king.

Can we make a quick stop?

Do you have to pee?

I begged you not to drink so much.

No, I want to go to Bethlehem.

- Pennsylvania?
- Yeah.

That's where Andre Hannan
is. He's on death row.

- You want to go see him?
- I do.

But first,

we got to find a sporting goods store.

I still don't understand
what we're doing here,

or why we had to stop and
buy hand-grippers on the way.

Well, Mr. Butter Pecan cuddles
his victims to death, right?

Per my calculations, the
hugger would have had to exert

no less than 300 pounds of
pressure on their necks.

That's a lot of pressure.

It didn't even come up in the trial.

Isn't that because Andre Hannan
confessed to all of them?

Yes, but I looked up a picture of him,

and Andre Hannan doesn't look like

he could get anywhere near 300 pounds.

You guys are from the FBI?

I was just wondering if you
could squeeze this for me

as hard as you can.

Mr. Hannan, I know you made
it all the way to death row,

but I can tell you one thing.

David Englander got the wrong guy.

You are not Mr. Butter Pecan.

Andre Hannan confessed.
He went on 60 Minutes.

He confessed again... I watched it.

Moreover, his confession is consistent

with the physical evidence.

His confession was hazy.

He said himself that it felt like

he was in some kind of a fugue state.

And the physical evidence
was extremely limited.

There was no DNA match;

there was no murder weapon to be found.

It was all circumstantial.

What I'm offering you is a fact.

There is absolutely no
way that Andre Hannan

could exert 300 pounds of pressure

with his bare hands.

He just couldn't do it, so that means

you have an innocent man
sitting on death row.

I let you go to Quantico

to bank some good will
with David Englander,

not to unravel his cases.

So you choose politics over the truth?

Or justice?

The American way?

Give Hannan a polygraph.

That's all I ask.

Is your name Andre Hannan?

Yes.

Were you born on April 17, 1978?

Yes.

Have you ever lied to
somebody who trusted you?

Yes.

Did you hug Jamie Anderson
in Cherry Hill, New Jersey,

on September 13, 2012?

Yes.

How did you hug Jamie Anderson?

I gave him a juice box,

and when he went night-night,

I cuddled him.

So he passed?

With flying colors.

"The most definitive pass
the examiner has ever seen."

Direct quote.

Sorry, Brian.

You were there. You saw him
try to squeeze those grippers.

He couldn't do it.

Maybe there's some other explanation.

Maybe he was stronger back then.

I mean, even he is sure he did it.

People have beat polygraphs before.

Why would he lie?

Why would he be trying

to get on death row?

And how could he lie so well?

I don't know yet.

Well, in the meantime,

we have a lot of work
to do here at the CJC,

where we're all employed, so...

She's still looking
into Senator Morra?

I guess whatever I said in
Virginia wasn't good enough,

which means I need to do better.

Fast.

You want what, mate?

Soda pop.

I need a sample of Senator
Morra's soda pop.

Hey, hey.

Time-out on the fun words, okay?

Just until we get back into
serial hugger territory.

Why? Where are we?

Uh, France.

My parents took us on vacation here

when I was, like, ten.

Or... I don't know.

But I don't know how it works down here.

But the point is, this
part's not gross, okay?

In fact, the blood...

is kind of a crucial detail here.

Blood.

I need a sample of Senator Morra's blood.

And it has to be clean, no NZT.

And why do you need that?

There may be some lingering questions

about the shooting...

The fact that the sniper was on NZT,

the senator's impressive reflexes,

whether NZT

may be involved in that.

It's Rebecca Harris, isn't it?

Asking the questions?

Doesn't matter who it is.

What matters is that they're smart.

And it's only a matter of time

before they think of some
way to test their theory.

The coat Senator Morra wore that day

is in an FBI evidence locker

with his blood on it.

Blood I'm pretty sure
would test positive for NZT

is someone thinks to test it.

And we certainly don't
want her doing that, do we?

I didn't say

it was Rebecca.

What I am trying to say

is that this little problem

could actually be a blessing.

I'm listening.

If Senator Morra waits

just a little bit between
doses, just long enough

for us to draw blood,

we could use that clean blood,

put it on a new, identical coat.

I could swap it out with the real one.

And then they can test
it for NZT all they want.

Let it be forensic proof that their theory

is wrong.

Case closed.

You know, clock's ticking and stuff.

You get it.

And now I wait.

But Andre Hannan is still waiting for me.

And how could someone who says he did it...

And who seems to believe
what he's saying...

Be innocent?

I mean, the guy does seem
to be pretty troubled.

Bipolar, possible schizophrenia.

He was seeing a psychiatrist
for most of his life.

Interesting.

Something you'd like to share?

Is this some kind

of science fair project?

I identified the problem

and explored a hypothesis

that somebody paid off Andre
Hannan to take the fall

for these crimes.

However,

an examination of Hannan's
financial records

showed no suspicious influx of funds

nor major outstanding debts.

Uh, we have PowerPoint, you know.

So that brings us to our next hypothesis.

Andre Hannan...

wasn't lying.

So you just made all these posters

to explain why you were wrong about Hannan?

Andre Hannan wasn't lying,
because he sincerely

believes he did it.

He remembers doing it.

Even though he's innocent.

What do you know about optogenetics?

Was that rhetorical?

It's the manipulation

of memory.

Scientists can use blue light

and a fiber-optic wire

to make certain memory-oriented
neurons sensitive.

It is going to change the world!

This is like real-life Inception.

No, we're only concerned with
the here and now, please.

Right now

neurons can be genetically modified

to be more sensitive

to light.

They respond to blue light

from a fiber-optic wire inserted

into the brain just like that.

Now, researchers recently reported

using optogenetics to
implant a false memory

into a mouse's brain.

And I think somebody used it

to plant false memories of these huggings

in Andre Hannan's brain.

- How would that work?
- If you could activate

Andre Hannan's neurons

while he was in some
kind of hypnotic state,

you could tell him about the huggings.

And with enough detail
and enough suggestions,

he could actually

incorporate the narrative
as his own memory.

Finch, a mouse is one thing...

And it turns out

that there's a project
at Hudson University...

The New York Mind and Memory Institute...

That's been experimenting with optogenetics

as a potential treatment
for all kinds of things.

PTSD,

schizophrenia, addiction.

And one of the leading
researchers is a neuroscientist

by the name of Dr. Howard Gilroy.

Now, Dr. Gilroy is also
a trained psychiatrist.

Would you care to guess
who one of his patients was?

- Andre Hannan.
- Bingo.

I don't get it.

You guys keep showing up here.

First the hand squeezers,

then the polygraph.

Now these?

Yeah, we need to shave your head.

Do you remember Dr. Gilroy?

The psychiatrist that treated
you a couple of years ago

before you were arrested?

Sure.

Did he ever do any

medical procedures

involving your head?

Sort of.

They tried some kind of
electronic stimulation

to help with the depression.

They had to put some
wires on my head for that.

That wasn't in the medical record.

I think they did a lot
more than that, Andre.

Were you conscious during this?

Sort of.

They doped me up a lot, though.

Did you ever notice any
kind of scar afterwards?

What kind of scar?

See, this kind of incision is exactly what

it would look like if someone
inserted a fiber-optic wire

into Andre Hannan's brain.

You really think that there is a doctor

going into the brains of
unsuspecting patients

and planting false
memories of hugs, no less?

If the memories are false,
then how are they so accurate?

Hannan's confession matched the details

of those huggings almost exactly.

So how would his doctor know those things?

- Unless...
- He was there.

You think Hannan's doctor is the one

who's committed those huggings?

We need to go talk to that doctor.

Couldn't agree more.

__

I'm the one that called in the cavalry,

so I can't keep the cavalry waiting.

And if they're at the doctor's office,

they definitely won't be
at the evidence locker.

It's the perfect window.

What are you waiting for?

Um, you know what? You
guys just go on without me.

It's your theory, Finch...

I know, but

my mom just texted me.

My dad's not feeling very well,

so she's gonna take him to the doctor.

Is it serious?

I mean, he says it's not,

but he always says that.

So I should probably go.

Well, we can wait.

No. No, no, no, no.

Look, I don't know what this is

or how long this is gonna take.

This guy's messing with people's brains

and he might be a serial hugger.

Yeah, he's right. Let's go.

Yeah, just keep me posted.

Yep.

Is it strictly necessary for
you to break and enter?

One navy blue Brooks Brothers overcoat,

identical to the one worn by
Senator Morra when he was shot.

What about the blood?

It's the senator's.

And free of NZT.

Wear gloves.

And bring the baggage out with you.

Yeah, I know how to plant
evidence thanks to you guys.

And I'm on NZT.

Let me know when it's done.

What can I do for you?

Well, this is a photograph of Andre Hannan,

a former patient of yours.

Andre Hannan was convicted

of four different huggings
between 2011 and 2014.

He's on death row in Pennsylvania.

Of course.

I remember Mr. Hannan.

And we think you had something to do

with what Mr. Hannan remembers, too.

We think you
implanted false memories

of him committing those
huggings into his brain.

I'm sorry?

You're working on cutting-edge
optogenetic technology here.

To help people.

To treat soldiers with
post-traumatic stress.

Why would I try to make someone
think they had hugged somebody,

much less four people?

You think I'm responsible.

You think I'm a serial hugger?

Andre Hannan lacked the strength

to cuddle those victims
with his bare hands.

But he happens to have a
psychiatrist who's involved

in memory manipulation.

What are the odds of that?

And what are the odds of that?

I cooperated with the FBI
during the investigation

of Mr. Hannan to the
full extent of the law.

With Mr. Hannan's consent,

I turned over all records of his treatment.

All the records you
wanted to share, at least.

You really think I did this?

We'd like to know where you were
on the dates of the huggings.

Just so we can rule things out.

Happily.

I keep meticulous records.

Evidence Control.

One of the most secure areas

of the FBI, designed
expressly to prevent anyone

from doing what I'm about to do.

This is an Evidence Request Form

with a fake signature

from Special Agent Arthur Vance.

Add it to the list.

In my defense, there are a lot

of ridiculous laws still on the books.

Did you know that in New York,
a person may not walk around

on Sundays with an ice cream
cone in his pocket, still?

- I.D.?
- Oh, you bet ya.

I whipped up an I.D. and a profile

for Agent Arthur Vance.

I may have given him a few

commendations.

That's quite an impressive
service record, Agent Vance.

- Oh, just doing my part.
- If you'll just wait right here,

I'll be right back with your items.

Here I shall remain.

From the moment he stops typing,

I've got about 30 seconds
until the security screen

comes back and locks me out.

Step one... don't get
locked out of the computer.

Check.

Step two... Erase any evidence

that I was here.

Oops, these systems can get so buggy.

Hey, it's me.

I know you're with your
dad, but Gilroy was a bust.

He has alibis for all the huggings.

Boyle and I will confirm,
but it doesn't look good.

He was so sure.

Yeah, we should still run
down the alibis, though.

Look, do you mind if we
swing through Brooklyn

on the way back?

"On the way back"?

I want to check something out.

All right.

Make sure to request evidence

from a current, high-profile case.

They keep that stuff behind extra security.

Buys me some time.

Damn it.

The button.

Great attention to detail, Sands.

Bathroom break, maybe.

Or system's down.

Hello?

I got the left.

What was that?

Reb, over here.

Are you okay?

Can you give me a hand? I'm locked in.

The system malfunctioned again.

And the service in here sucks.

I still want to get that coat.

You want to tell me what the
hell is going on here, Finch?

I got a call from Howard Gilroy

that the FBI is accusing him
of being a serial hugger,

and then I find out you're hanging out

with Andre Hannan?

Now, I don't know what kind of stunt

you think you're pulling here,

but if you screw this up for me,

I swear I will end you, damn it!

I will freaking play Cowboys
and Indians with you

until I cuddle you to sleep.

Do you hear me, Finch?

Do you hear me?!

Naz got a call

from David Englander this morning.

Yeah. Me, too.

- He was kind of mad.
- Well, can you blame him?

We're trying to unravel the
case that made his career.

As an author, at least.

And we're not doing the best job.

Gilroy's alibis checked out.

There's no way he's the hugger.

But what about Andre Hannan's head?

I mean, where else would he get that scar?

I don't know.

But even if Gilroy did incept him,

he wasn't at the huggings.

So how could he know what happened?

What if somebody told him?

- Who?
- Well, I don't know yet.

But we know Gilroy wasn't
just a researcher.

He was also a practicing psychiatrist.

I mean, he had patients, like Andre

and... other people, too, right?

You think it was another
one of his patients?

What better place to confess to huggings

than your psychiatrist?

With the doctor-patient privilege?

It's one thing not to report it.

But you think Gilroy was actively trying

to help a serial hugger cover?

Why?

Why does anyone do anything?

Lust, money.

Occasional sociopathy.

Speaking of money,

the New York Mind and Memory Institute

did just get a $500 million investment.

- Really?
- Yeah. Boyle found an article

when he was checking out Gilroy's alibis.

Who was it from?

Alexander Bale.

Oh, yeah, the tech guy, right?

Wow, he must think a lot of Gilroy

to give him half a billion dollars.

Wonder how he knows him.

Maybe Bale's a patient of his.

- That's what we need to find out.
- Well, good luck,

because Bale's not gonna tell you

and-and Gilroy doesn't have to.

Doctor-patient privilege.

I actually may know a way around that.

Hi. My name is Mike Ikerson

and I require immediate treatment

for many destructive urges.
Is Dr. Gilroy available?

- I'll have to speak to the doctor.
- I don't mind waiting.

Though... could I use your restroom?

Well, I didn't find an Alexander Bale

in Dr. Gilroy's patient files,

but I did find his son.

So Alexander Bale's son
was in Dr. Gilroy's file?

Nolan Bale.

The doctor had some choice
words to say about his patient.

"Lies with ease."

"Sociopathic tendencies."

So you think Dr. Gilroy figured out

that Nolan Bale is Mr. Butter Pecan

and he made a deal with
Nolan's billionaire father

to set up Hannan in exchange for a donation

that would fund his doctor's research

for the rest of his life.

And that has something to do
with us being in a dog park.

You can convince someone else

that they committed the
huggings that Nolan Bale did.

You can't cure Nolan
Bale of the urge to hug.

When he was active as Mr. Butter Pecan,

Nolan hugged someone

every ten to 13 months.

It was like clockwork.

Mm-hmm. And if Nolan hugged someone else,

then everyone would know
that Hannan was innocent.

Well, not necessarily.

Mr. Butter Pecan was known for hugging men.

It was a huge part of his profile.

So if he got his rocks off with a woman,

no one would connect it.

So I went through every unsolved hug

in the city over the past year.

And a couple of months ago,

someone picked up a prostitute

and cuddled her until she went away

to an awesome farm in the country.

He put about 300 pounds
of pressure on her neck.

You think it was Nolan.

Yeah. The woman, Vanessa Chipman?

She didn't go down easy.

She played air guitar with her attacker.

His DNA was under her fingernails.

Yeah, but you got all this
stuff from Nolan's medical file.

We can't compel DNA samples.

No.

But what if we just happened to be around

when he offered one up?

- Would you hold this? Thank you.
- Sure.

Excuse me.

Hi.

Do you mind if I shave your dog?

It's in the name of justice.

I went to the
building where Nolan works

and spent a couple of hours
hanging out in the elevator.

Eventually...

I struck gold.

Dude, you okay?

Yeah.

I just...

Is that dog hair on your coat?

Oh, my God, look at that.

What the hell'd you do that for?

Hygiene.

Have a good day.

Psychiatrist Howard Gilroy

was arrested today for his
part in a bizarre attempt

to frame Andre Hannan
and cover up the crimes

committed by Nolan Bale, son
of billionaire Alexander Bale,

who was also arrested.

Details remain sketchy
about the exact nature

of the conspiracy, but authorities...

Well, you did it, Finch.

You proved me wrong.

Hear Andre Hannan's getting out soon.

Man, did you fly up here

just to apologize to me in person?

If that's what it takes.

What is this place, anyway?

It's my headquarters.

They just finished it.

Pretty cool, right?

Yeah. Whatever.

Well, they're pulling my book
off the shelves as we speak.

But hey, you know...

Me, personally,

I'd rather light a candle
than curse the darkness.

And this story, Brian, your story?

The memory implants

and the innocent man on death row?

That's better than what I had.

And it happens to be true.

And we can sell it, Brian.

Come on. Fifty-fifty.

__

My name. My rep.

Your story.

Brian, don't be stubborn.

Come on, it's business.

Sixty-forty.

I'll build you a headquarters

with your own damn cotton
candy machine if you want.

There you are.

You know Rebecca's gonna
figure it out, right?

The chip on the button?

You didn't get that exactly right.

Did you seriously think
she wouldn't notice?

Well, it wasn't exactly
optimal circumstances.

And you were on NZT.

To get it right, all you had to do

was two seconds of extra effort.

She's gonna notice.

But maybe that's what you wanted, huh?

She'll keep poking around,

and eventually, maybe,

she'll find you.

Yes, Josh, that's exactly what I want.

I want to get caught committing a felony.

Things that happen down where I live

don't always make sense

at first, up here.

Look. You hate your life.

Lying.

Why not make it impossible?

It's not just about me.

It's my family...

Rebecca... all this will kill them.

Maybe we could... before I go?

Josh-o-saurus Josh can't smoke.

(A) You're not real, Josh.

(B) You're a role model to kids.

I retired.

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