All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.SVU.S09E18.MP4.LEG.BaixarSeriesMP4.Org

In the criminal justice system,

sexually based offenses are
considered especially heinous.

In New York City,

the dedicated detectives who
investigate these vicious felonies

are members of an elite squad
known as the Special Victims Unit.

These are their stories.

Push it back,
Frankie. Push it back.

It's coming out of that
apartment down the hall.

Engine 99 to Command.

We got a fire and a
taxpayer on the first floor.

Hallway's knocked
down. We're going in.

Come on, baby. Open up for me.

Let's get it done, ladies.

10-45 in the bedroom.

Command, 99. We
need EMS on scene.

She's not breathing. No pulse.

Engine 99, 10-45, Code 1.

Send a fire marshal and PD.

Frankie, cut the hose
so we can get her out.

On my count.
One, two, three. Go!

Stabler, Special Victims.

Was she dead when you found her?

Yeah. Nobody could
survive that smoke

for more than a
couple of minutes.

What makes you
think she was raped?

Her panties were pulled
down and her dress was ripped.

She had a big gash on her head.

Must have been unconscious
when the fire started.

Thanks. Any luck?

Yeah, I got a name.
Jenna Ludlow.

Twenty-five. She lived
here a couple of months.

Kept to herself. Nobody
heard any screaming

or fighting last night.

So, he raped her,
knocked her out,

lit the place up
to finish her off.

No. She was dead
before the fire.

There's no soot in
Ms. Ludlow's nostrils.

CSU find the murder weapon?

There was a lamp on the
floor next to Jenna's body.

Perp must have bashed
her head in with it.

You guys are this good,
what do you need me for?

Other than turning the world on
with your smile? How about a pelvic?

Done. Fluids present.

And there's thick
mucus at the cervical os.

She have an STD?

No. A bun in the oven.

From the looks of her belly,
she wasn't too far along.

Wonder if Jenna
knew she was pregnant.

Is anything salvageable?

Whatever trace evidence wasn't
burned, the fire boys washed away.

And we get hosed.

We'll gather and sift, but I
hope you find a good witness.

Prada shoes, Gucci...
She was living the life.

All good things come to an end.

Eddie Brincado, Fire Marshal.

Shame about these oak ceilings.

Varnish is a natural accelerant.

You light them up,

these beams are like
fuses on a Roman candle.

Where did the fire start?

Right here. And
it was no accident.

I don't see any signs
of an accelerant.

That's because you're looking at
what's here. Now look for what's missing.

Drapes.

Destroyed. Actually,
after the firebug lit them up.

Any idea what he used?

It's in the air, Detective.
The nose knows.

Alcohol.

Jellied methyl alcohol,

otherwise known as Sterno.

Your victim kept
it under the sink.

Two-pack. Missing a can.

Hey. Check this
out in the kitchen.

What have you got?

Dishwasher was shut.

Contents untouched
by fire or water.

Maybe we just got lucky.

Jenna had company last night.

Well, those glasses could have
been sitting there for a week.

I mean, a single woman
with a full-time job... Trust me.

Well, digs like these,
must have been some job.

I found the site where
Jenna advertised her services.

This discount suit cost 250
bucks at Morty's Suits For Less.

But with my personal touch, you
can look like you spent two grand.

Size doesn't matter, guys.

Size of your budget, that is.

I'm Jenna Ludlow, and I'm
going to help you dress to kill.

"Dress to kill." Too bad
she didn't get to help Munch.

Are you insulting
my sartorial splendor?

Well, if that
means clothes, yes.

Easy, fellows. Now,
what kind of a living

could Jenna make
being a stylist?

With the right
clientele, big bucks.

She only had $300 in
her business account.

Well, I'm not surprised, with all
those Gucci bags in her closet.

I don't know how she
could have afforded them.

She hasn't made any
deposits in months.

Because someone else has been
making them into her personal account.

Ten large, wired in for
the last three months.

From where? Liechtenstein.

Yeah. Conveniently untraceable.

Jenna had an
offshore sugar daddy.

Payments started
right about the time

Jenna must have got
herself knocked up.

Okay. So, she blackmails
him with the baby.

He comes over, they fight.

He rapes her, he kills her.

Well, how do we find
Count Liechtenstein?

Go to Heaven. Heaven Moscowitz.

Jenna's been writing her a
check every week for 200 bucks.

And the memo
line reads "therapy."

Heaven only knows who
Jenna was sleeping with.

I can't talk to you about Jenna.

Doctor-patient privilege.

And you're a doctor of what?

Angel healing.

You got a license to practice?

I'm certified by a
higher authority.

I'm sorry, but cherubim don't
have legal standing in this state.

What Jenna and I discuss in this
room is between us and the angels.

What's this about?

Well, I guess you didn't
get the 411 from on high.

Jenna was murdered this morning.

No. It can't be.
It's before her time.

It usually is in
our line of work.

Your guardian
angel is supposed to

protect you from untimely death.

You see, that's the problem
with guardian angels.

They're never around
when you need them.

I know you think this is a
big joke, but Jenna believed.

I taught her how to
speak to the angels.

About what?

Her future. Jenna
had a choice to make.

Together, we asked
the angels for help.

What choice?

I don't listen to words.

I feel them and spirit
them to the other side.

You feel anything about
Jenna having a boyfriend?

I see Africa.

Possibly Ethiopia. Great body.

Is his name Fabio?

Pierson.

Six million people in
this city, and "Pierson"

is the best your angels can do?

Okay.

Cleopatra says to try the
commodities exchange.

What's Special Victims
Unit doing down here?

We're looking for
somebody named Pierson.

A first name would really help.

We think he's African.
Maybe from Ethiopia?

We were told that
he has a great body.

Ethiopia and a great body?

Someone's yanking your chain.

Sounds like your
guy trades coffee,

so you're probably talking
about Pierson Bartlett.

What can you tell us about him?

Fourth generation coffee
trader. Family had seats here

on the exchange
since it was founded.

Well, you see him around here?

No, but he might be
up in the grading room.

Looks like the world's
greatest coffee break.

They're all traders. They
sample the coffee and cocoa

to make sure it's up
to trading standards.

There's Pierson
Bartlett over there.

Thanks.

Mr. Bartlett?

Hold on. Last cup.

Great body. Excuse me?

The coffee.

But I'll bet yours is
smooth and robust.

I didn't catch your name.

Detective Benson.

I'm Detective Stabler.

What can I do for you?

Tell us about Jenna Ludlow.

Why?

She was found
murdered this morning.

Oh, my God.

Jenna?

How do you know her?

She's my son P.J.'s fiancée.

They met when Jenna
temped in our office.

And where is he now?

Brazil.

That's where most
coffee is grown.

P.J. works with me. He took
our corporate jet down there

on business last week.

Well, can you get him back here?

We need to ask
him some questions.

He'll want to come
home right away.

But you know,
Rio's a 10-hour flight,

so it won't be before tomorrow.

We'd appreciate a
heads-up when he lands.

Yeah. I'll call when I know.

Dad's story checks out. Rio
airport confirms the Bartletts' plane

has been parked there
since last Tuesday.

I wonder if P.J.
knew about the baby.

Don't know about him, but
Jenna was planning to keep it.

How do you know that?

High levels of folic
acid in her system.

She was taking prenatals.

You got a lunch date with Ryan?

Special delivery.

Anyone you like
for Jenna's murder?

Well, fiancé was out of the
country, so probably a stranger.

Maybe a push-in
rapist. I don't think so.

That's why you brought
over Jenna's clothes.

They were torn to shreds,
but there wasn't a mark on her.

No cuts, no bruises.
Nothing on her skin

that matched up
with those tears.

So, I asked Ryan to take a look.

Check it out.

Okay, so the tears
start out smooth,

they get ragged at the ends...

Your perp used
scissors to start each tear,

then ripped it the rest
of the way by hand.

After he killed Jenna to make
it look like a stranger raped her.

Because it was someone she
knew well enough to have sex with.

Let's make sure our fiancé
didn't jet back here for a booty call.

November six-eight-Tango-five-Delta
left last Tuesday for Rio

and hasn't returned.

You sure?

Aircraft just can't fly into
American airspace willy-nilly.

They have to file
a return flight plan.

Did they file one for today?

Not until early this morning.

Mr. Bartlett's plane
was scheduled

to depart Rio at
0600 local time,

which puts them in here at...

Something wrong?

Weird.

They should be landing just
before 3:00 this afternoon,

but they scheduled a
refueling stop in Aruba.

Why is that weird?

Their G4 can fly from here
to Tokyo without a pit stop.

Rio's a lot closer.

Your victim has some record.

Arrests?

Employment. Jenna
was a job-hopper.

Temp agency says
she never worked

anywhere for more
than two months.

She was fired?

No. She'd request transfers.

Receptionist at a
white-shoe law firm,

secretary to a plastic surgeon,

event planner for a
Fortune 500 company.

All jobs where she
could meet rich men.

Looks like Jenna was
shopping for a husband.

And when she didn't find
Mr. Right, she'd move on.

Her last gig was at the
commodities exchange

working for the Bartletts.

She may not have
had a nose for coffee,

but she sure could smell money.

And she went after
it any way she could.

One guy dumped her and she
sued him for breach of promise.

She could do that?

Be careful, my brother.

Being a player can
be very, very costly.

A Park Avenue surgeon proposed,

then he broke off
the engagement.

He find out about her past?

Girl went wild.

Jenna logged a lot of
hours at spring break.

Apparently, she was
into girl-on-girl action.

Not quite the pedigree
for a society doctor's wife.

The court let him off the hook,

but they let her keep
the engagement ring

for her pain and
suffering. Two-karat rock.

Big payday for getting jilted.

She was up for an
even bigger one.

The Bartletts' net worth is
about a quarter of a billion dollars.

Our little gold digger
caught herself quite a big fish.

Maybe P.J. killed
her to get off the hook.

You know, he should
be landing soon.

Why don't we go pick
him up at the airport?

Thanks for the
heads-up you promised.

Sorry. It slipped
my mind. Right.

Hand your passport
to the customs officer.

What's going on here, Dad?

Police officers, P.J.

My son and I are grieving.

You can talk to him tomorrow.

Last entry stamp
in here is for Aruba.

There's nothing for Brazil.

So, you were never in Rio.

You sent him to Aruba yesterday

after we told you
Jenna was dead, huh?

So your plane could pick him up

and make it look like
he was in Rio all along.

Wait. I didn't kill Jenna.

All right. Let's go.

You're not taking
my son anywhere.

We'll take you both.

For what?

Obstruction of justice.

We don't have
enough to charge P.J.

with Jenna's murder.

Well, if we hadn't
collared them,

that jet would be
on its way back

to Brazil with both
Bartletts on board.

So, now they're just
going to waltz out

the front door of the courthouse

after a judge slaps them on the
wrist for the obstruction charge.

I think that P.J.'s soft.

We grill him, he'll give it up.

You think? 'Cause I think
once you mention "murder,"

Richie Rich and Daddy Starbucks

out there are gonna lawyer up.

So, what's your plan?

You guys are going
to get what we need

to charge P.J. with
Jenna's homicide,

while you and I do a
little legal tap dance.

Casey, it's 2:00 in the morning.

You can't just snap your fingers

and expect us to tie
P.J. to Jenna's murder.

Well, then, P.J.
walks. It's your choice.

Let's wake up O'Halloran.
See what he can give us.

Why don't you call Munch?
Tell him to haul his ass out of bed

and get down here.

I apologize for
the inconvenience.

My detectives were
a little overzealous.

So, we're free to go?

Yes. I voided your arrests.

It's as if none of
this ever happened.

We still need to talk to you
about your relationship with Jenna.

I'll send detectives to
the exchange tomorrow.

In front of everyone?

Unless you'd rather
answer a few questions now.

Sergeant Munch, would
you take the Bartletts

up to the lounge, please?

Yeah. But can I put
on a pot of coffee first,

for the love of all things holy?

Gentlemen, could you
please have a seat upstairs?

Yeah, as long as it doesn't take
forever. We've got a conference call

with Addis Ababa
at the crack of dawn.

We'll stall as long as we can.

Okay.

Any progress? Warner called.

She has the
preliminary DNA match

on Jenna's fetus.
P.J.'s the father.

What about the
semen inside Jenna?

Confirmed match. Also P.J.'s.

How did Warner know
that DNA belongs to P.J.?

Wine glass from Jenna's
apartment. I pulled epithelial cells

from one of his fingerprints.

They show up in the system?

SEC prints all traders
before they're bonded.

So, P.J. and Jenna were
having a romantic glass of wine

before he whacked
her and faked the rape.

Tox screen didn't show any
alcohol in Jenna's system.

She probably wouldn't
drink when she's pregnant.

Explains why the second
glass had Jenna's prints

and nothing but cranberry juice.

Well, did you get any
genetic material off the lamp?

If there was any, fire
hoses washed it away.

We're screwed.

O ye of little faith.

I've got something
else to show you.

Well, make it quick. Munch has the
Bartletts on ice back at the station,

and the clock's running.

It's 4:00 in the morning.

Are we done here?

I'm sorry. I have to ask
you a few more questions.

Can't you people afford anything
better than this high-acid crap?

Another shining example of
your taxpayer dollars at work.

This stuff is so vile, we don't
even trade it on the exchange.

You know, I took a coffee appreciation
course at The Learning Annex,

and it turned out it was just a
bunch of barista "wannabes."

Yeah, those national
chains have ruined

the American palate for coffee.

Can I ask you a question?

How do you make
a good cup of joe?

Well, it starts with the
right water-to-bean ratio.

You can't rush the process.

We sifted through the ashes
and found something interesting

on the desk in
Jenna's apartment.

Everything there
was burned to a crisp.

What are you going to
do? Read a piece of toast?

Even burnt toast still
has bread underneath.

Put a charred piece of paper
between two photographic plates,

keep them away from
light, then develop the film.

And if you're lucky, you get a
negative from which you can create

a photo duplicate of
the original document.

A credit card receipt.

Complete with Jenna's signature.

This receipt's one of
the few we found intact.

Most of the others
are in fragments.

But maybe there's
something you can use.

"By and between the
parties Jenna Ann Ludlow

"and Pierson David
Bartlett, Junior.

"Whereas the parties
intend to be married

"and wish to enter
this agreement..."

It's a pre-nup.

Makes sense.

P.J. was bringing
home the coffee.

He wanted to protect his beans.

Or Daddy insisted on it.

I didn't insist that
P.J. get a pre-nup.

I just suggested it.

I bet your suggestions
sound an awful lot like orders.

I don't interfere with
my son's personal life.

Orders are for business.

I think this was business.

Your son got Jenna
Ludlow pregnant.

Now, was she pressuring
him into marriage?

Getting married was my idea.

Okay. So, you have wine,
you make love to soften her up,

and then you lay
the pre-nup on her.

It didn't work.

She went ballistic. She said, "I'm
going to be the mother of your child

"and you don't trust me?"

I guess ten grand a month just
wasn't enough for Jenna anymore?

P.J. was wiring her money?

From one of your
tax shelter accounts.

By the way, the IRS
says that those are illegal.

We were just trying to
put aside some cash.

Well, Jenna and her baby
were going to cost you plenty.

You think that my son murdered

his fiancée just to
save a few bucks?

I think you found
out about the baby,

and Jenna was going to
bleed P.J. for child support.

You didn't want her getting her
hooks into half of your company.

So, you told P.J. to handle it.

No.

But you didn't think
that he would kill her.

And when he told
you what he did,

you hustled him onto the
first plane out of the country.

Dad had nothing to do with it.

Going to Aruba was my idea.

Okay, look. I can
help you out here.

But you've got to cowboy
up and tell me everything.

After we fought about the
pre-nup, Jenna threw me out.

I just wanted to get away.

We have a house in Aruba.

I asked Dad if I could take
the jet, but it was in Rio.

So, he drove me to the airport
and bought me a plane ticket.

And you didn't know
what happened to Jenna?

I swear. When I left her
apartment, she was still alive.

I wouldn't kill
Jenna. I loved her.

Don't say another word, P.J.

Avery Hemmings. How
dare you interrogate

my client without
counsel present?

Your client didn't
ask for counsel.

Are you okay? Yeah, yeah.

What did you tell them?

The truth. That I didn't do it.

You should have called me, P.J.

You defend P.J. often?

We've been friends
since college.

Their friendship explains
why she took his murder case.

Ms. Hemmings usually tries
SEC violations in federal court.

Well, she's in over
her head on this one.

Junior's DNA matches the semen

in Jenna and her fetus.

No, it doesn't.

P.J.'s DNA only
matches the semen.

I jumped the gun.

Who's the baby's father?

Congratulations, P.J.

You were gonna be a big brother.

What?

If this is some kind of trick...

No. No trick. DNA proves it.

Big Pierson here is
Jenna's baby daddy.

You screwed her? You slept
with my fiancée, you son of a bitch?

I was drunk. She came on to me.

I never meant for it to...

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Take it easy! Come on! Back off!

Oh, God. Somebody
call an ambulance!

After what you did today,
I should file a complaint

with the ethics committee.

You're lucky your cheap
stunt didn't kill my client.

We didn't throw P.J. through
that window. His father did.

After your detectives baited
them so they'd turn on each other.

I need to see P.J.
I've got to apologize.

He doesn't want to talk to you.

Then convince him. Please.

I'll try.

Any more shenanigans,
and I'll make sure you spend

the rest of your short
career tied up in lawsuits.

My son and I have
had our problems,

Ms. Novak, but
he's not a killer.

I'm beginning to
think he's right.

Are we looking at
the wrong Bartlett?

Well, marrying P.J. would
make Jenna very rich.

But a paternity suit
against Pierson Senior's

like hitting the Mega Millions.

Look at them. He pushes
his kid through a pane of glass,

and they're still
thick as thieves.

There's no way we're
going to split them up.

Then find something that
ties Dad to Jenna's murder.

Soot is a natural fingerprint
dust, under the right conditions.

Which are? Any smooth surface

that wasn't hosed
down during the fire.

Bathroom's the only
room that was spared.

Okay. Any luck? Not yet.

But I'd put our
chances at slim to none.

Well, Pierson Bartlett was
here the night Jenna died,

so you've got to
give me something.

You may have to settle
for more burnt toast.

Just another batch of photos from
the burned papers on Jenna's desk.

So, some more receipts,
phone bill, a catalog...

What is it?

You're sure this stuff
came off the desk?

Yeah. Why?

We were wrong.

About what?

Why Jenna Ludlow was killed

and who did it.

So, you're dropping the
charges against my client.

In your dreams. I'm
charging you both

with conspiracy
to commit murder.

Conspiracy? This is insane.

Your divide and conquer
strategy blows up in your face,

so now they did it together?

You're gunning for disbarment.

Read them and weep.

Where did you get this?

It rose from the ashes of
your fiancée's apartment.

What is it?

It's a printed e-mail about
the Bartletts' top-secret plans

to buy a coffee
plantation in El Salvador.

Apparently their
coffee's such a find,

it's going to make
them even richer.

You want to tell me
how Jenna got this?

You let that tramp
get her hands on this?

Well, she must have
stolen it from my briefcase.

How could you be that stupid?

Shut up.

Both of you.

Not only was Jenna
going to have your baby,

she was threatening to spill
the beans on your big deal.

Mr. Bartlett, you're going
to need your own attorney.

How long have you been in the
coffee trading business, Mr. Bartlett?

Forty years. My great-grandfather
started the company in 1896.

This was his cupping spoon.

I still use it to sample
and grade coffee.

People's three, do
you recognize it?

Yes. That's an
e-mail about our plan

to purchase a coffee plantation.

What's so special
about this e-mail?

Nothing. It's just a piece of
routine business correspondence.

And yet, the D.A. thinks
you killed Jenna Ludlow

in some sinister plot to silence
her when she got hold of it.

Sounds like something
out of a trashy beach novel.

Mr. Bartlett, did
you have anything

to do with the murder
of Jenna Ludlow?

No.

Thank you. Nothing further.

What kind of coffee grows
on this plantation, Mr. Bartlett?

Well, it's a new Arabica hybrid.

Mild, low caffeine,
class-one quality.

How much would you stand
to make if it were successful?

Well, it depends on whether
our beans were picked up

by one of the big chains.

Would it be fair to say
in the many millions?

From your lips to God's ears.

So, if some competitor learned

about your special coffee beans

and bought the plantation
out from under you,

it would be a
financial disaster.

We'd lose our
initial investment.

And the millions
you stand to make.

Jenna Ludlow stole that e-mail

and threatened to
sell your trade secrets

unless you paid
her off, didn't she?

That's not true. Yeah,
but $10,000 a month

in hush money wasn't enough.

Like all blackmailers,
Jenna got greedy.

So, there was only
one way to stop her.

Jenna wasn't blackmailing us.

That's not what
that money was for.

What was it for, then?

It was for the baby.

When did you start negotiating

to buy that coffee
plantation in El Salvador?

February.

February 10th,
according to the e-mail.

And when did Jenna tell
you she was pregnant?

Valentine's Day.
That's why I proposed.

People's exhibit 10.

The autopsy report
on Jenna Ludlow.

Could you please read
the highlighted passage?

"Examination of victim's
uterus reveals a fetus,

"estimated age, ten weeks."

She wasn't pregnant yet.

Jenna lied to you. She
wasn't pregnant in February

when you started paying her off.

Jenna didn't get knocked up
until late March. By your father.

P.J., I got more news
for you. People's 18.

The report from the lab on the
semen found inside Jenna's body.

"DNA testing confirms fluids are

"from Pierson Bartlett, Junior.

"Note that sperm are immotile."

P.J., did you know that
you were shooting blanks?

Objection, Your Honor.

Overruled.

You're wrong.

I'm sorry, P.J. You've
just got funky sperm.

Jenna was pretending
she was pregnant

because you couldn't
deliver the goods.

But then she figured, "Hey, why
settle for you when I can bang Daddy

"and really rake it in?"

Your Honor, please.
She's testifying...

Jenna loved me.

No. Jenna loved
your family's money.

And she hit the trifecta. Marrying
you, having Daddy's baby,

and learning the secret
plans to buy the plantation.

I mean, you and
Dad had no choice

but to solve the Jenna problem.

So, what did you do?

Did you plan it over
a late-night latte?

I didn't kill Jenna.

So, you're saying
that he did it?

Stay strong, Son.

Be quiet, Mr. Bartlett.

Did your father
kill Jenna Ludlow?

No, he wouldn't do that.

I bet you didn't think he'd
screw your fiancée, either.

Did he kill Jenna?

I don't know.

P.J., please.

Mr. Bartlett, I am not
warning you again.

- I put you on that plane.
- Mr. Bartlett.

I did everything I
could to save you.

Mr. Bartlett, please!

Why are you doing this?

Counselor! Control your client!

Thank you.

There's nothing
further, Your Honor.

I've seen CEOs who rape
their employees' pension funds

get better treatment than this.

You're the one who
screwed your client.

Did you even read
the autopsy report?

Of course I read it.

Then maybe you should go back
to defending white-collar criminals,

because a first-year law student
wouldn't have missed the age

of Jenna's fetus.

The trial's not over yet.

Yes, it is.

Only question is how
long the jury's out.

Ladies and
gentlemen of the jury,

you've been
deliberating for nine days.

Would further deliberation help
you reach a unanimous verdict?

No, Your Honor. We've been
hopelessly deadlocked from day one.

Then, I have no choice
but to declare a mistrial.

Defendants are
free on posted bail.

This court is adjourned.

We're re-filing immediately.

Why waste everyone's time?

The verdict's not
going to change.

Hey, Dana. Wait up.

Hey, Case. Tough break.

You almost had them.

Yeah. Eleven-to-one to convict.

You have any idea what
the hell happened in there?

Yeah. You had
one crazy-ass jury.

Crazy how?

Day one, I bring them lunch,

everything's hunky-dory.

Second day,
they're all screaming.

At each other?

No, at the holdout.
Juror number four.

I felt sorry for her.

You took pity on the moron
who screwed my case?

Not for that.

She's a single mom
with a disabled kid.

Devon has cerebral palsy.

Must be tough.

We get by.

Why are you here?

I checked your bank account.
You deposited $25,000

the day the jury
started deliberating,

and another
$25,000 this morning.

I got an interest-only mortgage.

And I was doing fine
until the rates went up.

We lose this place,
we got nowhere to go.

And Devon can't live
in a homeless shelter.

He's going to go to foster care

while you do
four-and-a-half years in prison

for selling your
"not guilty" vote.

I know it was wrong.

But I was trapped.

They were going to foreclose
on us next month. Please.

Ms. Novak.

You tell me what happened,
and I'll cut you a deal.

You won't spend a day in jail.

The night we got the
case, a man called.

He said he knew all about my
money problems and that he could help.

Did he tell you his name?

Roger Fromm. He's
a private investigator.

Get away from the shredder.

Who are you? Police.

Where's Roger Fromm?

He retired.

When?

About three hours ago.

Said he'd just come
into some money.

Told me to shred all his records

and gave me a
lousy thousand bucks.

Where did he retire to?

The Dominican Republic.

This is a cross-cutter.

Everything in there
is gone for good.

Here's the deal.

You're going to prison
unless you tell us

who your boss was working for.

Do you think that cheap bastard

told me anything
about his business?

I just answered the phones.

He never brought any
clients into this dump.

I know who paid him.

Pierson Bartlett.

I didn't bribe anyone.

No. That $50,000 payment to
juror number four was charity.

Your errand boy took
care of the bribery part.

Roger Fromm?

Your former Vice
President of Security.

I fired him four years ago.

He couldn't keep his mouth
off the business end of a bottle.

So, now he's your
personal bagman.

Is Mr. Fromm prepared
to testify against my client?

We have a sworn statement
from the juror he bribed.

But you don't have Fromm.

Come on, Pierson.

We're not done
here. Yes, we are.

Hey. I'll take that
steak dinner now.

Ouch. What was the bet?

Roger Fromm erased
his computer memory.

He deleted the files, but he
forgot to scrub the hard drive.

That's not Jenna.

Yeah, but that's P.J.

How many more of
these have you got?

Hundreds. With
dozens of different girls.

Bartlett had his
old crony tailing P.J.

full-time for years.

So, why is Dad stalking his son?

Well, why don't you ask P.J.?

His lawyer's never going
to let us question him.

But you're not
interviewing him as a perp.

This stalking makes
him a special victim.

So, my father had
me under surveillance.

Any idea why he'd do that?

Sure. He's a control freak,

and he has to be the boss
of everyone and everything.

Your father strikes
me as somebody

who's used to
getting what he wants.

Yeah, well, he did from
me. I wanted to be a painter,

but he made me go
into the coffee business,

and he made Jenna
get into his bed.

You sure that wasn't her idea?

Well, he's done it before.

Slept with one of
your girlfriends?

Yeah. Yeah. Right
after my mom died.

I lost my mother and my
girlfriend in the same month.

You see, everything
with him is a competition.

If I make a big trade, he's
got to make a bigger one.

If my girl's 25, he has to show
up with one who's barely legal.

Well, you won this round.

Jenna was marrying
you, not your father.

Yeah, well, he
couldn't let that happen.

My father and I were not in a
conspiracy to murder Jenna.

He killed her because
he was jealous.

And it was your dad, so
he wasn't gonna let you

go to prison for
something he did.

He hired Roger Fromm
to bribe that juror.

He bribed that juror to
save his own ass, not mine,

and I hope he rots in hell.

When are you guys
going to arrest him?

As soon as we can
tie him to Fromm.

Now, your father
paid for these pictures,

which means that
he has to have a set.

Do you have any idea
where he would keep them?

You're going to
burn down my house.

Like you burned down Jenna's.

That would be justice.

You have no right to do this.

No, the search
warrant says we do.

There's nothing in there.

Do you think that
we're here by accident?

P.J. gave you up because
he knows what you did.

Last chance. Give me the
combination or I'm going in.

The hell you are.

I have an injunction
invalidating your warrant.

On what grounds?

You violated P.J.'s
right to counsel.

We weren't questioning
him as a suspect.

Nice try. But Judge Taten saw
right through your little charade.

Avery Hemmings doesn't
know what she's talking about.

You didn't violate
P.J.'s rights.

So, get the judge to reverse the
injunction and restore the warrant.

What's the point? You know
Bartlett's already disappeared

with the photos from that safe.

It doesn't matter.
We already have him

for Jenna's murder
on his son's say-so.

How did Bartlett get
here before we did?

You miss the chopper
in his backyard?

- Congratulations.
- For what?

Whatever you said to Big Daddy,

he's rolling over on
his son like road kill.

He fingered P.J.
for Jenna's murder?

Just waiting on you to
seal the deal, Counselor.

What did Bartlett say to you?

That he can't protect
his son anymore,

and that P.J. has a
violent streak in him.

P.J. did throw the first punch

the day his dad put
him through the door.

Bartlett also said P.J. told him

he had to get out of the country

the night that Jenna died.

That's why he sent him to Aruba.

What a mess. First, we can't
get either one of them to talk,

now they're flipping
on each other.

I'm never going
to get a conviction.

And so what? If
Jenna were alive,

we'd be collaring
her for blackmail.

She's no innocent victim here.

She was a hustler.

Hustlers deserve justice, too.

This discount suit
cost 250 bucks.

How many times are you
going to watch that thing?

Until I figure out how
this little scam artist

had such a hold on two
powerful guys like the Bartletts.

Well, she was going to
bleed them for millions.

Well, yeah, okay,
so call the cops,

hire a lawyer, but don't risk
everything by whacking her.

Dress to kill.

Wait a minute.

What is it?

You got the
evidence inventories?

Yeah. Right here.

Come here.

You see something?

Well, I'll blow it up for you.

Look. That lamp there
was the murder weapon.

That means Jenna made
this video in her bedroom.

So then why didn't we find any
trace of a camera or videotape?

Bathroom's clear. Okay.
How about the bedroom?

I opened the pillows, the
mattress, everything in there.

There's nothing.

For someone who
slept with coffee traders,

you'd think Jenna would
have brewed better beans.

What have we got brewing here?

SD card. I can
play it on my laptop.

That bedroom cam
sure came in handy.

Jenna's got some
big insurance policies.

The baby, and now home movies.

Maybe she sent a
copy of this to Bartlett

and that's why he
didn't want us in his safe.

She puts this on the
Internet, it's a huge scandal.

Exchange takes
away Bartlett's seat.

It's bye-bye to his 100-year-old
coffee trading empire.

He tried to buy her off,

she decides that's not
enough, he whacks her.

You guys. In the bedroom.

The camera was hidden
here, inside the wall.

How did it shoot
through plaster?

Didn't have to. It's
got a remote lens.

She probably hid it in the crown
molding on this wall facing the bed.

Lens burned up, but the
camera body's in perfect shape,

and there's an
SD card still inside.

We didn't come here to watch TV.

You should stick
around, Counselor.

You've never seen a
performance like this one.

Jenna had a secret booty-cam.

You two have starring roles.

She made videos of
us having sex with her?

Including the last
night you were together.

She threatened to sell them to the
tabloids if we didn't keep paying her.

Dad, why didn't you tell me?

I was trying to protect you.

Wait. You're not going to
make us watch it, are you?

Just the encore.

P.J. had already come and gone.

The killer showed up
after he'd already left.

Turn it off.

Why? It will prove
we're innocent.

I said turn it off!

We can fast-forward it. Yeah.

I'm not going to sit
here and listen to this.

I know exactly
what you're doing.

What are you still doing here?

He doesn't love you!

I'm not going to ask you again.

Get out! You're a
money-grubbing whore!

You don't know anything
about me! Get out!

No, I'm not going anywhere.

Who do you think you are?

Look. We're engaged. What?

See this ring? Get out!

He loves me! He does!

I said get out!

Avery killed Jenna?

Why?

You're not just going to
let her get away, are you?

Front door's the
only way out of here.

I've already alerted security.

They're not going
to let her leave.

Emergency stairs to the roof.

Avery.

Don't come any closer!
I swear I'll go over.

Avery, what did you do?

I begged Jenna to let you go.

You want to know what she said?

"He's mine. Every last penny."

She was no good for you, P.J.

None of them were.

So, you had a PI follow me? Why?

To protect you. All of those
whores, they just loved your money.

I loved you, P.J.
Ever since college.

I always have.

You almost got
me sent to prison.

And my father.

That's why I bribed the juror.

I never would have
let you get convicted.

I would never do
anything to hurt you.

I said get back!

Avery.

Be careful.

Avery.

We can work this out, okay?

Why don't you just
come with me, all right?

It's too late.

No, it's not.

Please. For me, okay? Okay.

Get away from my son! No!

Bartlett, get back.

She almost destroyed us.

Me? This is all your fault.

If you hadn't knocked up Jenna,

none of this would
have happened.

Back away from her, she's nuts.

Shut up, Dad!

Haven't you done enough damage?

I love you, P.J.

That's right.

I love P.J., and I'm never
going to let you hurt him again.

P.J.!

No!

No... Please, no.