All language subtitles for Taken S02E11.eng

By 5:00 p.m. today,

The D.C. City Council will
finally have a deal in place

for a new football stadium.

We'll be invoking eminent domain

to relocated the Little India
shopping district.

But the shop owners will be

extremely well compensated
for their land.

In return, the people of the city

will get a brand-new stadium
paid for by the owners

and not you, the taxpayers.

However, many residents of Little India

are refusing to go down without a fight.

- Table five.
- Right away.

You need to sell.

The city's willing to offer
twice the value of this place.

I don't think you understand
what a good deal you have here.

Vijay-uncle, please.

I don't know how many times

we can say the issue isn't money.

It's about pride
in our community, our identity.

But nobody's talking about that.

What that boy needs
is a nice Indian girl.

I tell him every morning at breakfast.

Councilman Torres
sounded confident today,

but his big stadium deal
will never happen

unless the people of Little India

agree to sell their land.

Steve from Fairfax, you're on the air.

Yeah, I think they should be grateful

just to live in this country.

Take the money and get
the hell out of the damn way.

In your dreams, dumb-ass.

And that, my friend,
is how you play Conquian.

What's the matter, Mills, hmm?

You never been cleaned up
by a woman before?

- Not like this.
- Well, get used to it.

My grandpa taught me this game
when I was seven.

Kilroy's running late,
but we can start without him.

Does that mean we have a low-tech case?

Actually, we don't have a case.

I thought you guys could use a break.

I want you guys fresh for our next job.

I think she's trying to say

we could use a mental-health break.

An Amtrak ticket to Providence.

Well, you owe your parents
a visit, Bryan.

No, really, you shouldn't have.

- It'll be good for you.
- I insist.

A weekend at the Four Seasons

with room service and an in-room massage.

Check-in's at 10:00, massage is at noon.

- Wow, a mandatory massage.
- That sounds relaxing.

- Well, I can cancel it.
- Oh, hell, no.

What did you get Kilroy?

Speaking of mental-health breaks.

Well, I think Kilroy
would be the first to tell you

it's none of your business.

- Mr. Kilroy.
- What brings you in?

Tattoo, uh, removal.

Right, uh, above my, uh, heart.

- Okay, let's have a look.
- Uh, well, first date, Doc.

So I'd just like to ask a few questions

before you know, I get, de-nuded.

Can you describe the tattoo for me?

- You know, writing.
- Just a black script.

Um, a name...
Lexi, for whatever it's worth.

- Lexi, huh?
- Mm-hmm.

- First love?
- First wife?

- So what do you think?
- Can you make a clean lift?

Well, without seeing the tattoo first,

I would recommend a creative cover-up.

Ink leaves a mark either way.

Like it or not,
it's a part of you forever.

- I got Vik from Little India.
- You're on the air.

I guess I'm just a little sick and tired

of hearing Indians being called selfish.

What's selfish about wanting
to keep your own property?

Councilman Torres has offered to pay

double the land value, right?

He is prioritizing money
over culture, and that's wrong.

Like it or not, Little India
isn't going anywhere.

Where to, boss?

I got a lunch delivery
for Conference Room K.

- What restaurant?
- Bombay Palace.

Torres ordered from Little India today?

Guy's got a pair of balls on him, huh?

All I know is I got a lunch delivery.

Go ahead.

- Hi.
- Conference Room K?

Right through there.

- Another delivery?
- I'll take that.

That was close.

Some vacation.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

Where's all the help?

- Lunch traffic.
- We are the help.

- We need to get up there.
- My baby.

Mills!

Wait, wait, wait. It's okay.

My baby, my baby. My baby.

- Break out the suture kit.
- My baby...

Your baby's fine.

Ma'am, I need you to
hold still right now, okay?

Let's stitch her up.
She's bleeding out fast.

Must have nicked the carotid artery.

Got to tie it off.

Three, two, one.

- Stay with us.
- It's going to be okay.

Okay. Okay.

You're good.

- It's all right.
- We're gonna get help now.

All right, listen up, everybody.

My name's Agent John McCarron,

Department of Homeland Security.

This entire area
is now an active crime scene.

I want authorized personnel only.

If you do not belong here, please leave.

All right, look,
I'm just going to come out

and say what everybody else suspects.

This is a targeted act of terrorism.

- Already?
- Based on what?

32 minutes ago, this guy, Vikram Desai,

tweeted Councilman Torres...

"You dug your own grave,
and now I'll see you in hell."

I suspect he went up,
and he died in the blast.

How did all 17 intelligence agencies

miss this threat?

- I don't know.
- That's a great question.

I mean, there were
exactly zero indicators

that this bombing was going
to take place,

and yet, this case against this Desai guy

has been gaining momentum by the second.

This threat against Torres has
been retweeted 12,000 times.

There's already a photo that's
been circulating on Reddit

of Desai walking into
the high-rise 20 minutes ago

carrying two bags,
which could either look

completely suspicious or totally normal,

depending on which theory
you're trying to prove.

This is all happening too fast.

Yeah, less than an hour ago,
Desai was on the radio railing

against Councilman Torres'
stadium proposal.

I guess I'm just a little sick and tired

of hearing Indians being called selfish.

So, somehow, this thing has gone

completely viral on Twitter.

It's like somebody knew

that Desai was going
to bomb Torres today.

Then why didn't we?

Are you okay?

- Mom?
- Vikram?

Oh, thank goodness.
Are you okay? Are you safe?

I'm okay.

I don't know exactly what happened,

but, um, I'm okay.

Why are they saying this, Vikram?

What are they saying?

They're saying that you did this.

They're saying that you are the bomber.

- What? Who?
- Everybody. You are on the TV.

All right, everybody, listen up!

The elevators are down, with
a bottleneck in the stairs.

So just please stay calm,

and we'll be moving as soon as we can.

Tell him he must turn himself
in right now

for his own safety.

If you turn yourself in now,
we can sort all of this out.

- Vikram?
- It's him.

That's the delivery guy. Over there.

- Thanks, Mom.
- Hey.

- I love you guys.
- Hey!

Hey!

Excuse me, can you
help me with something?

Uh, I'm sorry, ma'am. This is
authorized personnel only.

- There's more help this way.
- Yes, I just was wondering...

what is the point of origin

for the evidence against Vikram Desai?

I'm sorry. Who are you?

Just a concerned citizen.

Look, the information's
all over the Internet...

Facebook, Twitter, Reddit.

You must be lost. Come on.
Why don't you come with me?

Have you considered the possibility

that Vikram Desai is being set up?

Of course I have.

I have also considered

the amount of hard evidence
that shows he did it.

Why don't you tell that
to Sunil Tripathi's parents?

Who's Sunil Tripathi?

He just happens to be the guy

who was wrongly accused
of being the Boston Bomber

based on a mountain
of hard evidence on Reddit.

How quickly we forget, sir.

Just a concerned citizen, huh?

Just happened to be in the neighborhood.

You can prove this setup theory?

Not yet.

Then you're just in the way.

First off, I'd like to thank
you all for your bravery.

I've never been prouder to be your mayor.

But the situation is still unfolding.

Right now we all just need...

You saved her life.

Thank you.

I promise you, we'll get
the bastard who did this.

- Floor ten, I just saw him...
- the guy from the news.

He's alive. He's hiding in a copy room.

All right, you tell
your man to sit tight.

I'm sending up my guys.

- Floor ten. Get him. he's alive.
- Yes, sir.

Looks like law enforcement
has a visual on Vik.

Yeah, well, that makes two of us.

I hacked into the building's
security cameras.

This poor bastard's alive.

But, you know, I'm not so sure he did it.

What do you mean?

I mean, his... his identity was taken

in order to make it look like he did.

That threatening tweet,
his hostile Facebook page,

even his recent financial history...

it's all been completely fabricated.

- Can you prove it?
- I can't, not yet.

I mean, whoever...
whoever orchestrated this

is a sickly talented hacker.

I mean, this Vik guy's got six months

of incriminating history

that simply didn't exist
20 minutes ago, okay?

Now it's everywhere.

This whole thing is a giant, elaborate,

and, might I add, exquisite illusion.

Is... is it weird to say that I'm
a little jealous of the effort?

So how can we find out
who really did this?

For starters, I'd look for
the guys trying to kill Vik.

He was probably supposed
to die up there, you know?

The frame works
a lot better if he's dead.

You can't claim innocence
if you're not alive to talk.

You could put it that way as well.

Who are these guys?

- Elim crew's coming in now.
- Definitely not cops.

You stay out here.

Feds just shut down this whole block.

We're gonna need an exit strategy.

Details from the tenth floor are hazy.

Crowding and chaos in the stairwells

are making it difficult for first
responders to assess the damage.

It's slow going on the stairs, Kilroy.

This guy's going to be dead
by the time I get to him.

I wouldn't sweat it.

The bad guys are in the same
traffic jam as you are.

They got a head start,
and I got to get there first.

Yeah, but what they don't
have is a hacker hookup

who can power up the freight elevator.

You said their hacker was exquisite.

Compared to regular guys,
but, uh, compared to me,

I mean, you know, come on.

Exit the stairs on the third floor.

I'm sorry.

You're just never ready for it
when it happens on your watch.

Any word on casualties, Madame Mayor?

Nothing verified,

but unofficially there might be six dead.

And Oscar Torres might be one of them.

For what it's worth,
you showed real courage

and leadership on the plaza.

It's what the public needs now

and what the public will remember later.

Thank you, but my
professional performance review

is not a priority at this moment.

And I'm sorry, Bob,
neither is your stadium deal,

- if that's what you're here for.
- Oh, not at all, ma'am.

I'm here to support you
and the people of this city.

I absolutely agree, the stadium
is not the priority right now.

Well, it can't be.

The optics just don't support it.

I'm on my cell.

The stadium plan better
damn well be a priority.

We're two years into
very complicated negotiations.

- Relax, Bob.
- The mayor is in crisis mode.

But let's take a beat.

As far as optics,
this could be a blessing.

Give it a month or two.

The public just might see

the new stadium as a symbol
of civic resilience.

The stadium dies, the terrorists win?

Are you kidding me, Hanson?

In pure political terms,

this horrific tragedy
becomes a big win for you.

Not really. The stadium
ceased being a big win for me

when your boy Torres
cut off my public funding.

You told me this would be a steal.

And now I'm paying
for the whole damn thing.

You sure about that, Bob?

I saw the contract this morning.

You saw Torres' contract.

But what if I told you Torres'
replacement on the City Council

will support public funding

of 50% of your stadium cost?

That really a possibility?

I'm picking his replacement myself.

What's in this for you?

Between us,

I'm a silent partner
on the entertainment complex

that's going up next to the stadium.

The Torres plan cut the public funding

for the entertainment complex as well.

Trust me, this whole horror show

is a golden opportunity for both of us.

Torres' private financing plan
just died up there

with Oscar Torres.

- Suspect's this way?
- Yeah, he's in the copy room.

- Second door on the left.
- We'll take it from here.

Y'all Homeland Security or something?

I said, "We'll take it from here."

- You got to believe me, Mom.
- I didn't do anything.

Okay, first things first,
man... I'm not your mom.

- But I do believe you.
- Who is this?

It doesn't matter,

but if you listen to me
extremely carefully,

you stand a better-than-average chance

of surviving the next five minutes.

- Why should I believe you?
- Okay, don't believe me.

But right now there are
two really mean-looking dudes

standing outside the copy room door

about to shoot it down with a shotgun.

Ah!

Do I have your attention now, Vikram?

Okay, what do you want me to do?

I need you to go to the closet door.

It's opposite a window,
it connects to an office.

Go inside the closet door,
and kick through the drywall.

You want me to kick a wall in the closet?

Yes, yes, I can't do it.

Vik, go right. Mills, you got
about five seconds.

Who's Mills?

Vik, just believe me when I tell you

you are not about to get kidnapped.

Oh!

That's Mills. He's one
of the good guys, okay?

I promise.

Use the stairs here, Kilroy?

There's a better stairwell
on the other end of the hall.

Stay low.

Who are you?

My name is Bryan Mills,
and I believe you.

And the guy on the call?

His name is Kilroy, and so does he.

But why is this happening to me?

Faster, Vikram, let's go.

Give me your phone.

Why'd you take my phone?

They were tracking your movements.

That's how they found us
in the second stairwell

and how they knew exactly
when to set the bomb off.

Kilroy, any... any sign of Santana?

Go!

Hop in, boys.

This is your grand exit strategy?

- It's 2018, Mills.
- News travels fast.

Federal agents today

descended on a restaurant in Little India

reportedly owned by bombing
suspect Vikram Desai's family.

Is there a phone that I can use?

- That's not a good idea.
- I need to talk to my parents.

You're an enemy
of the state right now, Vik,

hunted by armed assassins.

Any contact with your parents

will only make life worse for them.

Worse?

What is worse than thinking
that your son is a...

domestic terrorist?

Maybe getting arrested for harboring one?

Trust me, you do not
want to talk to them now.

- Look at them.
- They're hurting.

- I know how you feel, buddy...
- more than you know.

But you can't go back to them now.

Not yet, at least.

- I didn't do anything.
- It doesn't really matter...

What you did or you didn't actually do.

Vikram, what matters
is what the evidence shows.

And what the evidence
overwhelmingly shows

is that you planned and executed

a vicious bomb attack
against Councilman Torres

with callous disregard
for collateral damage.

Hmm.

It is hard for me to convey in mere words

precisely how screwed you are.

You recognize this guy?

- That's me.
- I'm inside Muth's Hardware.

I'm making a lunch delivery.

No, you're buying
bomb-making materials...

specifically soldering wire,
fuses, and a burner phone.

- That's ridiculous.
- Here's a receipt

and a credit card statement
from the purchase,

time-stamped only moments
after this picture was taken.

I didn't buy any of that stuff.

And yet, there's a history
of six similar purchases

at six different hardware stores,

as well as a receipt

to an all-nude gentlemen's club
for some reason.

This just keeps getting
better and better.

For the record, Vikram,
I totally believe you, okay?

Also, for the record,
I'm a convicted felon.

So, you know, don't get
too excited about that.

I-I-I was only there to deliver lunch.

Don't tell me... they used
an online ordering system

or, you know, an app?

Oh, God, they erased them, right?

No record of the orders

makes it look like
I went there on my own.

Here's the deal.

This guy, right? He's freakishly good.

But not as good
as I think he thinks he is.

Does this name mean anything to you?

- Elorenz.
- I'm clearly talking to him.

- Elorenz. No.
- Why?

Because I think he's the
hacker, and that's his handle.

And it's buried in all this code, right?

In all these hacks, it repeats itself

like a CRISPR sequence.

It's basically like a hacker signature.

- How did you find it?
- What do you mean?

It's what I do, you know.

You do your thing. I do my thing.

You know, it's not "Elorenz," guys.

It's E. Lorenz, as in Edward Lorenz.

Who you may know, or maybe not,
as the father of chaos theory.

So are we going to go
after this guy or what?

I don't have enough information.

Well, what can we do to change that?

What can we... just... I'm trying
to get my life back here.

Okay, all right, let's think.

Torres... The real bombers, man...

they were going after Torres, right?

Yeah, that was their
intended target, sure.

Okay, so what... eh, what's
it called when, uh...

You were from a fishing village...

you know, when you fish with dead bait?

- Chumming.
- You see where I'm going with this?

I want you to get Santana and go chumming

at St. Mary's Hospital.

- I'll brief you along the way.
- You stay here with Kilroy.

I'm gonna get my fishing rod
out of storage.

Bring some guns, too, okay?

Because the chumming was just a metaphor.

- He knew that, right?
- I think so.

It's kind of a weird job.

You?

I was told a former CIA case officer

wanted to speak with me.

Well, I don't know anything about that.

But I am willing to bet you don't have

Vik Desai in custody.

You still think he's innocent.

What I think is irrelevant.

But I do have a plan
to draw out the bomber,

Vik or otherwise, and I'd like
to enlist your support.

How did you get up here, anyway?

With the approval of DNI Casey.

Look, if I'm wrong, nothing changes.

If I'm right, the glory's all yours.

Director Casey, huh?

What are you asking?

Torres was the bomber's target, right?

Well, it appears that way.

So what do you think the bomber will do

when he finds out Torres survived?

This is information
that hasn't been released yet.

But he didn't.

- Councilman Torres is dead.
- I figured as much.

But the bomber doesn't know that yet.

So this elorenz dude...

he's proved himself to be
a pretty masterful hacker.

So we're going to have to fight
fuego with fuego.

You know what I'm saying, man?

First thing we're going to do

is we're going to manipulate
Oscar Torres' medical records.

Make it look like he survived the blast.

He's alive, but
he's in critical condition.

He's losing blood, a lot of it.
AB-negative blood.

Next thing we're going to do
is, as a safety precaution,

the hospital is going
to clear a room for him

in the VIP wing, usually reserved

for high-level government officials,

dignitaries, rich Saudis
that want to pay with cash,

that kind of thing.

Finally, we are going to kick-start

a volunteer blood drive

because hospitals need blood anyway.

And you know what, dude?
We're good people.

We have just a quick update
on our investigation.

We have more survivors than expected.

Unfortunately, the hospital
is low on blood supply.

So, if anybody wants to help
and donate blood,

they should go to St. Mary's Hospital,

especially if they have AB-negative.

AB-negative blood
is the rarest type of blood,

and we are particularly short
on that supply.

Okay, that's it.
No more questions. Thank you.

More survivors than expected.

You think there's any possibility

Torres might still be alive?

Not a chance.

We got confirmation that he was
in the same room as the blast.

But no confirmation he's dead?

I hate to be crass,

but I was getting used
to the idea of him being dead.

You and me both.

I got to hit the head.

Tell me something, David.

What blood type is Oscar Torres?

Why?

Because you assured me
he would die in the blast,

and I'm beginning to worry he didn't.

Are you sure about this no-guns thing?

Bad guys won't have them either.

They're just outside if we need them.

Chum is in the water.

Only thing left to do now is wait.

You watch the doors
and the nurses' station.

I'm going to go stand guard upstairs.

All right, this will probably
take a little while, right?

Fishing is an exercise in patience.

Hi. Is this where you sign up to donate?

Every drop counts, Mills.

As long as you don't need it later.

Hey...

I know this seems pretty dire, you know,

for you and your family.

I mean, and it is.

You're not wrong. It's awful.

But I want you to know
that you have options.

Yeah... options.

Electrocution, lethal injection,

death by firing squad.

- No, no, no, no, no, no.
- Just hold on, relax, okay?

First of all, D.C. repealed the
death penalty,

like, 37 years ago.

Your only option, as far
as incarceration is concerned,

is life without parole,

but I'm not talking about prison, man.

I'm talking about...

I'm talking about
running away and starting over.

- Like a fugitive?
- Like a new man.

A brand-new identity for you and your...

No, no way. No, I-I don't
want a new identity.

I happen to like the one I woke up with.

I want my old life back.

Yeah, me too.

Well, at least you wouldn't be
leaving a loved one behind,

you know?

Kilroy's not your real identity?

Of course it is.

My bad.

Did you see how easy that was?

Anybody can press the reset button.

You know, you're not the only one

that's leaving someone
pretty special behind.

You mean like... like a girlfriend?

- Maybe.
- What are you...

No, no, see, as a function
of saving your life,

I happen to be positive that
you do not have a girlfriend

at this present time.

Well, maybe not one
that lives in the States.

What does that mean...

like, an online girlfriend
or something like that?

Yeah, her name's, um, Shafali Jeste.

- What is it now?
- Shafali Jeste.

Jeste?

Yeah, she's from London.

I met her on an Indian dating site.

- You did, huh?
- From London?

Yeah.

- There she is.
- Oh, she's cute.

Only one thing, though.

She doesn't pronounce
her name Shafali Jeste.

- Of course she does.
- No, she doesn't.

She pronounces it elorenz.

Now we know how you were hacked, man.

You were catfished.

Mills, we got a nibble... one
of the guys from the high-rise.

- Um, excuse me.
- Yes.

I think there's someone
that needs help over there.

- Oh.
- No problem.

Okay, he got into the system.

Got about a minute.

Mills, there's more than one.

He could already be up there.

I got our man.

And guess what.

It's Ramsey's guy...

Morse.

Ramsey?

The private military contractor.

That means somebody hired Blackfalls

to kill a city official.

We need to find out what Morse knows.

Oh, I will.

But we're going to have
a little fun first.

You were in the Rangers with Ramsey.

Bravo Company, second Ranger battalion.

- Served my country well.
- No...

You're a disgrace to the uniform.

You killed six Americans today,
and for what?

- Ramsey has his reasons.
- I have mine.

- You did it for the money.
- Maybe.

But it's a lot of money.

Who hired Ramsey to set off that bomb?

Come on!

You really want to kill a soldier?

You're not a soldier.

You're a mercenary,
a murderer, and a terrorist.

Now, who hired Ramsey
to set off the bomb?

You really want to die for that guy?

You should have came to work for Ramsey

when you had the chance.

But I got to say, I'm glad you didn't,

because I'm going to get
a hell of a bonus.

Don't expect a soldier's burial.

People are going to know
exactly who you were.

Show me your hands.

- You're not a cop.
- On your knees.

- You good?
- Yeah, let's go, let's go.

Aah!

Aah!

Mills, a little help.

All right, with any luck,
we can use the back door

of this Website to track down elorenz.

Maahi.com... what is that, a fish?

"Maahi" means "beloved" in Hindi.

Yeah. No, I get it, it's like
FarmersOnly, but for Indians.

What's FarmersOnly?

It's like maahi.com for farmers.

You know, for what it's worth, Shafali,

you know, seemed pretty...
you know, she seemed nice.

I mean, she seems...
you know, she's fake, but...

Yeah. She was the first
profile I reached out to.

Smart, funny, ambitious,

you know, dated non-Indians,
but was open on Maahi

because she wanted
to make her parents happy,

just like me.

Almost too good to be true, huh?

We were going to meet up in a month.

- Dude, I am so sorry.
- That is brutal.

On the upside, you may
just get your chance.

Seems like your fake girlfriend

paid for this bogus dating account

with the same stolen credit card he used

to pay for a pound of
chocolate-covered coffee beans

a couple of weeks ago,
sent to this address in D.C.

Do you think he's still there?

Maybe, but not for long.

Different stolen credit card
associated with the same address

just paid for a ticket to Berlin.

- We got to go.
- Me? I'm a wanted man.

Dude, but I'm not leaving you
in the SCIF, so...

What about someone else from the team?

Look, I could lie to you,
and I could tell you

that they're too busy or whatever,
but the truth of the matter is,

I want to look this hacker in the eye.

I just found out who elorenz is.

- I want to talk to Ramsey.
- He's in a new-client meeting.

You are?

A new-client meeting, that's even better.

I'll give you
my personal cell phone number.

You can't just walk in there.

- Christina.
- No need to speak.

Just shut your mouth and
listen to what I have to say.

- This can't wait? I'm in the...
- No.

I want them to hear what I have to say

on the off chance that one of them

is actually a decent human being.

This man is a monster.

He's an actual domestic terrorist.

You are out of line, Christine.

And you can either believe me now,

- or later when the story breaks.
- She's obviously not well.

But the facts are the facts, David.

Somebody hired this company
to set off that bomb today,

and you are just enough of a monster

- to have accepted the job.
- Is there a problem here, sir?

So what, is he going to
kill me in the parking lot?

The story doesn't die with me, David.

So you get your affairs in order,

because this little sandbox

isn't big enough for the both of us.

Oh, and now you can't say
that you didn't know.

- Nobody's here.
- Start looking.

- What am I looking for?
- You, for starters.

This is definitely the place.
Look at this.

Hands up, don't move.

- She ain't here, boss.
- You'll never guess who is.

The Desai kid and some other guy.

What do you want us to do?

I'm really sorry, Vik.

I really didn't think this through.

Whatever happens, I want you to know...

your parents will know the truth.

Okay.

- Roger that.
- Consider it done.

It was option C all along.

Option C?

Firing squad.

I'm so sorry, dude.

Hello, Vikram Vanraj Desai.

Pleased to finally meet you.

Wait, wait, wait.

Hi, E. Lorenz,

aka elorenz...

aka Ella Nicole Riordan...

born April 10, 1985,
Lemont, Illinois, right, hmm?

- How did you find me?
- Uh, coffee beans.

The chocolate... chocolate ones,
you paid for them

- with a stolen credit card...
- You tracked it, I get it.

- Guess everyone makes mistakes.
- Right, right.

Anyway, time to make peace
with your gods, gentlemen.

- I have a plane to catch.
- Okay.

If I'm tracking the vibe
in this room correctly,

Ramsey sent these idiots to kill you.

Well, I happen to be
very, very friendly...

with some extremely capable operators...

who would very much
like to see Ramsey dead.

Why did you even come here?

The kid just wants
his identity back, dude.

It wasn't personal, Vik.

So your people want to kill Ramsey?

Unless you kill us right now,

in which case,
you're going to jump the line.

Wish them good luck for me.

You're going to find
a good girl one day, Vik.

When you do...

do it in person.

Maybe I'll see you around, Vincent.

My name's not Vincent.

Isn't it?

She's so my type.

Let me be very clear here.

Vikram Desai is 100% innocent
of this crime.

He's the victim
of an elaborate identity theft,

intended to make him look guilty.

This man...

John Michael Morse
is our monster in question.

He was a disgruntled lone wolf,
an Army veteran,

who furiously opposed

Councilman Torres' policies
on veteran housing.

Now, Mr. Morris worked
very hard to frame Vikram

for these attacks before
he himself died in the blast.

We have recovered
his cell phone in the rubble,

which contains a wealth
of incriminating evidence

and information.

Now, I can take a few questions.

The stadium is dead, gentlemen.

I hope you understand
my decision. It's too fraught.

Emotions are running high
right now, ma'am,

but people forget.

Think about Chavez Ravine in I.A.

When the Mexicans
were booted from their homes

to build Dodger Stadium,

folks thought that community
would never support the team.

Have you seen the size of the crowds

at a Dodger game lately?

People forget, Madame Mayor.

Not everyone, and certainly not me.

- The team needs a new stadium.
- I know.

And we'll build one soon.

And when we do, I promise you this.

We're not paying for it. You are.

Little India stays.

Like, after the Santa Fe
trial, you know what I mean?

- One more?
- This is great.

This is my mother's dal dholki. Enjoy.

It's, uh, lentils in a Gujarati curry.

It looks wonderful.

Shukriya, Mrs. Desai.

You're very welcome.

It's not too spicy for you, is it?

Probably for that guy,
but not for me... I love it.

You want to put
some money on that, Santana?

You can't afford to, Mills.

All right, um, actually,
if I could just say something.

Um...

you all did not just save my life today.

Um...

you saved my last name,
my family heritage.

- So thank you.
- Yeah, man.

- All of you.
- Cheers.

Especially you, Vincent.

- I really appreciated...
- Ixnay on...

- Who's Vincent?
- Uh, inside joke.

Um, so you dating anyone, Vik,
or what's the story there?

I have some advice for you.

You might want to not give out
your password

on the first date,

should you ever choose to
pursue another relationship.

- Right? Am I right?
- Yeah, definitely.

Okay.

Christina...

What are we going to do about Ramsey

and whoever it was who hired him?

Well, there are some dark forces at play

right here at home.

But I already made the first move.

Stormed Ramsey's office
and poked the bear.

He'll be coming, and we'll be ready.

I apologize for the botched operation.

I got my guy on the City Council.

It'll pay off eventually.

Just not for your stadium deal.

The mayor will come around.
If not, the next one will.

What about your man, Morse?

Can he be traced back to any of this?

This was off the books.

Morse was officially
terminated years ago.

Now it's really official.

Tough seeing a loyal trooper

dragged through the mud as a terrorist.

Well, he knew what he signed up for.

What concerns me
is the team that killed him.

This isn't the first time
we've crossed paths.

I want to make certain it's the last.

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