All language subtitles for L.A.Dragnet.S01E04.Well-Endowed.1080p.PCOK.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

The story you
are about to see

was inspired by
actual events.

The names have
been changed

to protect the innocent.

*

It was Wednesday morning,

it was sunny
in Los Angeles.

My partner and I were
working the day shift

out of robbery/homicide.

The call came in
from Van Nuys division

at 10:15.

Caucasian female
beaten to death,

an apartment in Tarzana.

In parts of the
San Fernando Valley,

apartment blocks like
these stretch on forever.

Moderate rents,
short leases,

few questions.

It was essential L.A.

People in mid-stream,
anonymous, always on the move.

My name's Friday.

I'm a cop.

Manager noticed
the door left ajar.

Entered the apartment
and found her.

We'll need to see him.

He's with the paramedics.

What he saw gave
him chest pains.

A poster of herself.

She'd come here
from somewhere else

to be known.

She'd taken a new name:

Whitney Lynde.

It would be known
tomorrow in the obituaries

of the L.A. Times.

Driver's license
gives her legal name

as Eliza Mae-Munsen, 35.

Looks like someone needed
anger management counseling.

Multiple blows with
a large, heavy object.

I'd guess cause of death

is massive injury
to the brain.

Didn't stop there.

The suspect worked her
face and upper body.

Hopefully by then
she was dead.

TOD is around two a.m.

Rape?

No vaginal bruising
or obvious semen.

Versace, Loro Piana.

She didn't dress
on the cheap.

No sign of forced entry.

And no evidence
of struggle

or defensive wounds.

Looks like she was
beaten to death

while she slept.

Check the people
working perimeter.

Make sure they look for
anything that could be

a murder weapon.

Purposeful search.

Didn't want jewels or
other obvious valuables.

Well, if he's
a maniac wacko,

maybe he wanted
a souvenir.

Tore the phone line out.

Cordless phone.

Ripped the
answering machine out.

Who's the kid?

Detectives.

The manager can talk now.

Moved in four months ago.

Paid month to month.

I made you a copy
of the lease.

Anyone help her move in?

Some guy.

You saw him.

Handsome.

Dark, in his 30s.

This guy come around much?

Couple times.

Anyone else?

Friends, family?

Her sister came once
with a young boy.

He swam in the pool.

The sister's name
is on the lease here

as a reference.

Maria Mae-Becker.

Address Lompoc.

All right, we'll need the
names of your other tenants.

You gonna bother
these people?

We're gonna bother
a lot of people

till we find who
bothered Whitney Lynde.

*

Whitney Lynde
had a pink slip

for a vintage Mercedes.

The car was gone.

In its place,
the kind of leather

only worn in private.

Maybe the tools
of her trade.

But which trade?

My guess?

She was a hooker.

With nasty clientele.

I don't know.

If all this stuff
is in current usage,

why down here in
a storage locker?

Why not near the bed?

It's a Beta system.

It's hard to find
tapes for these nowadays.

Speaking of tapes...

where are they?

Well...

Maybe our killer found
what he was looking for.

Hey guys.

Got some blood.

Three small drops.

Puts it near the trunk.

Mercedes Benz,
expensive clothes.

I think she landed here
from another life.

Her previous address...

Brentwood.

That's definitely
another life.

Where is it safe these days?

This place looks
pretty secure.

You mean,
if she hadn't moved?

Whitney had one
of our best studios.

What was she paying?

Eight thousand a month.

Paid right on time
until about a year ago.

Then what?

I'm just the manager here.

Mrs. Somper.

What?

You're an attractive
obviously smart woman.

I believe Whitney
would've confided in you.

She told me she was waiting
for a large settlement.

Guess it never came.

If you'll follow me this way.

Her apartment
was right there.

I can't show you the inside,
there are new tenants.

She must've been popular.

Did she have
a lot of visitors?

Maybe friends with
other tenants?

Not really.

Stayed to herself.

A loner?

I'd like
to be more help,

but people move out.

Life goes on.

Hers didn't.

*

*

*

Well, her last meal,

some two hours
before her death,

was a salad.

Butter lettuce,
tomato, tofu,

rye crackers.

Not dinner date food.

So she probably
spent the night alone

on her own.

What are these?

Inoculations?

I believe they're burn marks.

Burns?

How old?

Not recent.

I'd say four
or five years,

possibly from
a cigarette or cigar.

Well, that could
go with the whips

in the garage locker.

Sanjay, what does she
tell you about her life?

Oh, she cared about
her appearance.

Probably worked out,

had her fair
share of facials.

These teeth that
were knocked out.

That's some quality
cosmetic dental work.

I mean, those are
beautiful laminates

on her incisors.

The abdominal stretch marks

indicate she's
been pregnant,

and I'd say she's carried
at least one child to term.

Check this out.

Two years ago,
Whitney Lynde,

née Eliza Mae-Munsen,
was popped for possession.

Half a gram of coke
and unscripted Vicodin.

I called the narc
who made the bust,

he said she was
defended in court

by Myron Tarnower.

The Myron Tarnower?

Defends her on a
minor drug possession?

Since we know he doesn't
stand next to a client

for less than a thousand
bucks an hour,

the question is why?

Grab your coat.

Myron Tarnower.

I knew him
and he knew me,

but he would
pretend he didn't.

Selective memory.

A necessity of
criminal defense.

Detective Friday,

my partner
Detective Smith LAPD.

Have we met before?

You cross-examined me

a couple of times, I recovered.

It's never personal, you know,

just part of the job.

We're trying to get background

on a homicide victim.

She was a client of yours.

Whitney Lynde?

No, doesn't ring a bell.

Real name Eliza Mae-Munsen.

You defended her two years ago

on possession of narcotics.

Oh, yes.

Oh, very, very attractive.

She wasn't a client

of mine, per se,

just a friend of a friend.

Can't tell you much about her.

Can't or won't?

Now, that's the wrong

attitude, Detective.

I met the woman
at an arraignment,

fixed a plea, and over.

Who paid for your services?

Oh, come on.

You know better than

to ask me that.

I've got a meeting.

Friday.

Great.

Be there in less than an hour.

Whitney Lynde's sister

coming in from Lompoc.

She's a twin.

Mrs. Becker,

I'm Detective Friday.

This is my partner,
Detective Smith.

This is Sam,
my sister's boy.

Hi, Sam.

We didn't know you
were coming along.

Yeah, some of the areas
we'd like to discuss

are a little delicate.

Yeah, it might be
something, you know...

Certainly.

Well, Sam can wait here.

Actually, um...

Do you skate?

I'm just learning.

Yeah?

Well, I got a deck downstairs.

Okay, Sam.

Put all the
weight on your toes

and go that way.

And then all the way on
your heels and go that way.

Yeah.

Yeah, you're getting it.

That's great, man.

You know, uh...

when I was at
your mom's house,

I saw a lot of
pictures of you.

I saw them, too.

You know what
that means, Sam?

Your mom loved you a lot.

You guys, uh...

you spend a lot
of time together?

I used to see her
almost every weekend.

What would you guys do?

She'd pick me up in Lompoc.

Sometimes we went
to Magic Mountain.

Just the two of you?

Ramon went with us.

Ramon?

He was your mom's friend?

He drove the limousine.

But yeah...

they were friends.

*

Can't believe
I won't see her again.

You know, Sam...

I know things are
tough right now...

but you're gonna be okay.

*

I won't even see her in heaven.

Sure you will.

No.

My uncle said
she did things

God would never forgive.

Bible says God
forgives everyone.

So, trust me, Sam.

You'll see her in heaven.

*

She was homecoming queen.

Very popular.

People told her she
should be an actress.

She believed them.

Did you see much
of her lately?

No.

We're very different.

Me and my brother.

Day and night.

Teaches high school math.

I teach first
and second grade

at a Christian school.

Sam goes there.

Did he ever live
with his mother?

There wasn't much place
for a child in her life.

Did you know
Sam's father?

No.

Maybe she wasn't
certain who he was.

Didn't share problems?

We avoided certain topics.

My husband and I
have taken Christ

as our personal savior.

When will they
release her body?

I wanna make
funeral arrangements.

You know, I find
something strange.

Usually when
someone is murdered,

there's a concern
from the family

we catch the killer.

You mean I don't
seem surprised?

Bad things happen
to evil people.

My mother used to say
evil was the absence

of empathy.

Ramon the limo driver.

You think he could be
the Ricardo Montalbán

that helped move her
into her apartment?

Kid probably
could've told me more.

No, you couldn't push him.

I couldn't get
anywhere with the sister.

Some kind of born again.

The kid's uncle said
his mother's not

gonna go to heaven.

Can you believe that?

Hey Joe, you got a call
from the radio room.

Some black-and-whites
found your victim's car.

*

The fire was reported by
a watchman in that building.

Let's get a canvas on
the people that work there.

Try to find out if
anybody saw who did this.

And let's get people
to lift the tire tracks

and footprints
from that area

of dirt over there.

Found this just outside
the burn perimeter.

Good job, thank you.

Looks like they
doused the inside

then they poured
a trail out and lit it.

No bodies.

Videotapes?

I didn't see 'em.

There's no bodies,
no videotapes,

why torch it?

They're trying to
destroy something.

Can we pop the trunk?

*

Got hot but never ignited.

Let the fumes clear.

Anybody got a glove?

Yes, sir.

*

This was used as
batting practice...

on her.

There's blood,
tissue fragments,

pieces of shattered bone,

hair,

all the DNA
you'll ever need

to make this your
murder weapon.

Juanita, I want
you to astonish me.

The killer's no fool

and he wasn't
disorganized.

He wiped it down
before he used it?

Then he put on gloves.

That's why we didn't find
prints in the apartment.

These bloody smudges
on the handle?

Here you can actually
see the pattern

of the leather.

Well, is there any
way we can link them

to a specific brand, label?

It's tough, but...

even though he wiped
down the bat...

he forgot the heel.

She always saves
the best for last.

Three different partials.

I've already put
'em through our

latent print computer.

*

One partial forefinger
matched the quality

control inspector
in the factory

where the bat was made

who had an old
arrest for a DUI.

Another print
had no match,

but a partial thumb gave us
Paul Gregorios Kankeredes,

37, dishonorably
discharged from the Army

seven years ago after
violently assaulting

a female officer.

That brought us
closer to home.

I said he was handsome.

So, how often
was he over here?

Once in a while
I see him leave

to go jogging.

What time would that be?

Early like six a.m.
when I was putting

out the garbage.

You think he spent the night?

I couldn't say.

I wouldn't wanna speculate
on something like that.

We couldn't either.

We had to find
Kankeredes,

and he wasn't living
at his last known address.

Tax records told us
that he'd worked

eight months ago
in the mail room

of an ad agency.

His record there
wasn't much better

than when he
was in the Army.

Zero interest
in this job.

Admitted he took it
just to get back

on unemployment insurance.

Totally full of bull,

right, Nacio?

Talked instead
of doing his work.

What did he talk about?

Bragged he hung out
with some big model.

What was her name?

Her picture's on
that board right here.

Bingo.

Did Kankeredes
clean out his desk?

He just stopped
showing up.

His stuff's in a box.

We'd like to see that.

I was a little worried
this guy might get me sued.

Sued?

Guy kept bragging
about how big he was.

You know?

I was worried he'd show
it to a female employee,

I'd have a sexual
harassment situation.

Credit card bill.

Maybe he's still
using the card.

Yeah.

Here's Whitney
with Kankeredes

in formal attire,
some sort of dinner.

Looks like a fundraiser.

Whoa.

Here he is in
less formal attire.

Said he hung out
with a model,

he's doing a little
modeling himself.

Come on, let me see that.

This is not for the room.

- Is that real?
- I don't know.

Digital imaging.

Well, when we bring
him in for booking,

I'm not standing next
to him when I pee.

Cover boys are
Paul Kankeredes,

Bobby Joe Bulgar.

Let's call the magazine and
see where they found 'em.

Let me go!

The magazine
had no address

for Paul Kankeredes.

But they knew how
to reach his partner,

Bobby Joe Bulgar,

currently featured in
a porn video shooting

in a West Valley
industrial park.

No!

We mostly do
fetish stuff

for the Asian trade.

Has to look rough,

but no one gets hurt.

Can we get a few
minutes with Bobby Joe?

Yeah, I know
Paul Kankeredes.

We worked together.

We did, uh,
magazines, videos.

You know, stuff like that.

He...

had some problems, and uh...

What kind of problems?

Well, he had that
big money maker,

but it didn't work too
well without a snapper.

A snapper?

Yeah, it's
a hypodermic injector.

Painless.

You shoot papaverine and
within minutes you're...

good to go.

Shoot where?

Guess.

Anyway, he broke ties
and quit the trade.

I haven't really
seen much of him.

I see him at Priscilla's
for morning coffee,

and I barely get
a "hello" out of him.

Well, after barely "hello,"
what else does he say?

He said he was servicing
some rich old size queen,

and a model.

They're not one and the same?

No, Paul lied a lot,
but I saw the woman.

She was in a limo,
she was getting coffee.

She was yelling
at him to hurry up.

She look familiar?

No, no, no this
woman was older.

Very well kept.

Hell, I would've done
her for the limo rides.

Uh-huh, when was this?

Give me the address.

Well, fax it all to us.

Don't worry,
we'll get the subpoena.

Great, thanks.

Kankeredes' credit card,

a week before
Whitney Lynde's death

he rented a car,
never returned it.

Address on the rental
car form is a motel

at Magnolia and Van Nuys.

That's a block from
Whitney's apartment.

*

Mr. Kankeredes,
this is the manager.

There's been a little accident,

someone's backed
into your car.

*

Room's clear.

*

He's breathing.

What's wrong with him?

I don't know
but he's alive.

*

He's, uh, stable.

That's about as
far as I'll go.

No evidence of drugs?

Tox panel's clean.

So, you have no idea why--

Coma of undetermined origin.

The CT shows no clotting,
no, uh, extensive damage

to the brain.

His blood sugar was 40.

That's low.

Meaning?

Well, if he were diabetic,

I would suspect insulin shock,

but he's not.

Check for that.

Of course.

So, if it is insulin,

will he come out of it?

That depends on
the amount of

brain cell damage.

He could just wake up.

Or...

Or not.

Lieutenant, I'm not
indicting a vegetable.

Are we sure
Kankeredes did it?

What we think is,
Kankeredes walked

the three blocks from his motel
to Whitney Lynde's apartment.

He killed her,
took her car,

left the murder
weapon in the trunk

and then he set
it on fire.

Then he called someone and
told them the job was done.

Who did he call?

Someone who wanted
what Kankeredes

found at Whitney's.

We think it's videotapes.

Somebody injected
him with insulin.

Plausible,
even fascinating.

Call it murder for hire...

Leo Kass was the kind of
assistant district attorney

who knew only one word:

no.

He'd rather let
a killer go free

than jeopardize
his win/loss record.

So, indict him along with
an unnamed co-conspirator.

People find out
he's been charged,

it could shake some trees.

I'm a DA not a tree shaker.

I don't want
the DA's office

supporting this
Paul Kankeredes

for the rest of his
horrible comatose life.

I just lost two felony
trials back to back.

I could use
a guilty verdict.

Any thoughts?

Kankeredes didn't have a bean.

Whitney was broke.

Here they are
at a fundraiser

where a rubber chicken could
cost a thousand dollars a plate.

Who bought them dinner?

Ah, politics,

a world of high ideals
and loads of money.

The picture of
Whitney and Kankeredes

was at a fundraiser
for a state senator

named Henley.

Ten grand a table.

These are the
Henley files.

Now, if we give
you a table number,

you could tell us
who paid for it?

Thanks to a maverick
senator from Arizona,

we keep detailed records.

You have a date?

Uh, yeah, August 12th
two years back.

Ah, yes.

That was at the Biltmore.

Here's the seating chart.

It was at table number seven.

- Right there.
- Oh!

What?

The table was bought
by Maurice Rosemont.

Who?

The Rosemont family owns
a large clothing empire.

They've given very
generous support

to candidates
of both parties.

Was Maurice Rosemont
in this picture?

Yes, that's him.

And Mrs. Rosemont,
is she at the table?

No, apparently
she wasn't there

on this occasion.

It's so sad.

Mr. Rosemont?

It's been over a year.

Colon cancer.

Why would a guy like
Maurice Rosemont

bring a low-life
like Paul Kankeredes

to a fundraiser?

He didn't bring Kankeredes,

he brought Whitney,

and Whitney brought
Kankeredes as the beard.

To cover up she was
Rosemont's mistress.

So he died,
the party's over.

I can't see anything
tying Rosemont

to Whitney's death.

Let's start back
in Brentwood.

Mrs. Somper...

financial records
say Maurice Rosemont

paid Whitney Lynde's rent.

Would they be in error?

You've got his
financial records?

Would they prove
you're lying?

All right.

Maurice paid her rent.

He was keeping Whitney.

But why drag
this all up?

Can't we respect the dead?

Paul Kankeredes?

He picked Whitney
up for dinners,

different events.

But Rosemont
brought her home.

And spent the night?

I'd see his
limo out front.

Ever talk to the driver?

Sometimes I brought him coffee.

I felt sorry for him
sitting out there all night.

You get his name?

Ramon.

I don't remember
his last name.

It was foreign.

You said that
Whitney Lynde

was waiting
for a settlement.

After Rosemont died,

she tried to sue the
estate for palimony.

They threw it out of court.

Why ask me?

Read the case,
do some homework.

We can't.

You had the case
sealed at the request

of their attorney,
Myron Tarnower.

I'm sure there
was a good reason

probably stipulated
in the settlement.

No, there was no
settlement, Judge Osterman.

You called
Whitney Lynde's lawsuit

frivolous and had
it thrown out.

It was palimony
against a dead man.

Now you remember the case.

I recall bizarre
allegations

made against the name
of a reputable person.

I sealed the case in
the public interest.

It will remain sealed.

The public interest?

He sealed the case
in someone's interest,

but not the public's.

I'm due in court.

*

Rosemont.

The name was
suddenly familiar.

I remembered
my first Communion.

I was 11,
the suit was white.

It was from a line of
menswear called Rosemont.

We drove up to Bel-Air,
we wanted to hear

from Maurice Rosemont's wife.

A palimony suit
sealed away in the dark.

Helena Rosemont might
shed some light.

Bel-Air.

Old homes,
a lot of money,

and no welcome mat for cops.

- Yes?
- I'm Detective Friday,

this is Detective Smith

with the Los Angles
Police Department.

We're investigating a homicide.

A murder in this neighborhood?

We're wondering if we
could speak to Ms. Rosemont.

Who is it, Felix?

Two gentlemen from
the police department,

Mrs. Rosemont.

Have them come in.

Yes, ma'am.

*

She stood there
looking down on us.

She seemed to enjoy it.

I'm Helena Rosemont.

Please come.

I suspect I know
what this is about.

I read how Whitney Lynde
was brutally murdered.

Yes, that's the case
that we've been working on.

I don't know
what I can tell you.

I was spared
the humiliation

of actually meeting her.

But I do regret
this crime has occurred.

Since you seem to harbor
no ill will towards her,

would you agree to
opening the palimony case

for our review?

You've totally
misunderstood me.

I resent only
the aggravation

her death causes me.

What happened to her
I feel she deserved.

We feel no one deserves
to be murdered, ma'am.

I won't pursue
our difference

of opinion on that.

Mrs. Rosemont, how
long were you aware

that your husband and
Ms. Lynde were involved?

Nine years ago
a close friend of mine

saw them in a restaurant

and called me.

That was the first
time I heard her name.

Whitney Lynde.

Why, I suppose you
know her real name.

I'm sure you'd
agree she was trash.

We don't make those
kind of judgments.

Well, you should.

Thank you, Felix.

This was about power.

She tried to play me,

and I refused to play.

Now she would
try my partner.

It could help you
with your investigation.

I strongly suspect
the murderer

is someone from her past.

We definitely think
the murderer is linked

to her past,
that's why we're here.

I resent your inference.

You're in my home
because I allow it.

We could talk downtown
where that isn't a problem.

Are you really suggesting
that I would allow myself

to be exposed
to such treatment?

There's an easy way
and there's a hard way.

And if you're smart--

Oh, I'm smart
enough, young man,

to pick up that phone
and call Myron Tarnower

and have you thrown
out on your ass.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Rosemont.

We get a bit
overzealous sometimes

and, uh...

There's simply too
much opportunity

for misunderstanding
in this conversation.

It's best we end it.

I'll show you out.

A little more time
we might be able

to avoid the necessity
of interviewing you again.

You see this tray?

Always piled high
with invitations.

Mayor's office.

Important people
in government,

finance, jurisprudence,

friends I support,

who support me
and give me help

any time I need.

Judge Osterman
one of those?

Hmm.

You want a street fight?

Down and dirty?

I'll accommodate.

Don't let the
big house fool you.

It doesn't.

*

What a nightmare.

No love in her marriage.

Just anger.

Well, guy's dead,
time to lighten up.

I think she's
got nothing.

Whitney's death
didn't do it for her.

No, she'll keep going.

This is her life.

I'm ready to believe
that she paid Kankeredes

to kill Whitney.

Except for one thing.

Kankeredes was
her husband's guy,

so would she even
talk to him let alone--

In a heartbeat to
get what she wanted.

She knew Kankeredes had
one very special advantage.

Whitney knew him,
trusted him.

Yeah, but how do we tie
the two of them together?

Helena Rosemont was right.

It was gonna be
a street fight.

Helena Rosemont
wanted a street fight,

she was gonna get one.

We tried the
tabloid columnists,

most refused
to speak to us.

That was a good sign.

It meant there was
someone who had

a lot to say and
wasn't allowed to say it.

I'm dying to talk about it.

It's come to the point
where they're more

scared of me--

Alberta Danner worked
on the fringes of

tabloid journalism.

She went for the stuff
even they wouldn't touch.

Helena owned
that idiot judge.

She financed the campaign.

It's nice to find
out you're right.

Gentlemen.

Helena Rosemont wanted
the palimony suit sealed.

And she had the
friends to do it.

You know, Helena
used to be a redhead.

Maurice loved redheads.

And Whitney, she
could swing the whip,

and he loved the lash.

Hm, S&M type stuff.

There was evidence
of a search

in Whitney's apartment.

Oh, the tapes?

Whitney and Maurice
taped everything.

They were into some kinky
stuff even by my standards,

and they didn't play alone.

Maurice and his cronies?

If you can picture this...

the entire kitchen cabinet
with their utensils.

Yeah, but rumors.

Honey, they're always true.

Larry Flynt?

I heard he tried
to pay a million bucks

for those tapes.

Dolan Brown.

Private investigator.

He had a client willing
to double Flynt's offer.

Two million cash.

In old Hollywood,
the fixer was an ex-cop

named Freddy Otash.

He broke down the door
with Joe DiMaggio

to catch Marilyn
in bed with a surfer.

Today, you'd hire
Dolan Brown, PI.

Fix-it man to the stars.

I pulled a file
on Whitney.

Who knows if these
tapes even exist?

It could be Whitney
lied to pressure

the Rosemonts
on her lawsuit.

If that's the case,
it didn't work.

You don't mess
with Helena Rosemont.

I told Whitney,
"Honey, give it up.

Move on."

Yeah?

When did you
tell her that?

I don't recall.

- Get that?
- Uh-huh.

What?

Too many depositions, Dolan.

We got close
to the truth,

and suddenly
you don't recall.

I'll admit on behalf
of a client I offered

Whitney over a million bucks.

Client!

Guys, you've heard of--

Attorney-client privilege?

When did you
pass the bar?

We got a woman with
her head smashed in.

A little boy who wonders if
he'll see his mommy in heaven.

People don't get to
hide behind their money

and your lies.

Now, you mess with me
on this, you son of a bitch.

You, your files,
and everything else

go downtown.

I don't need
an enemy in RHD.

My client was
Helena Rosemont.

*

Whitney needed money,
why didn't she sell the tapes?

Come on.

Whether they existed or not,

they were the
only protection

for her and the kid.

Sam.

Helena knew he
was Maurice's child.

She knew he'd send
a chauffer up

with Whitney to visit him.

That had to make her crazy.

*

Hey, Joe.

Like to take
a guess on how many

chauffeur's licenses
were issued to people

with the first name Ramon?

Uh, guessing
five minutes a call,

700 plus names,

that should take...

Any chance we'll get
our hands on the Rosemonts'

employment records?

Just a thought.

You got any
plans for tomorrow?

What?

'Cause it's Saturday I might
consider it free time?

I thought maybe we'd
do something different.

Maybe we take a ride
up the coast to Lompoc.

That was great.

Aunt Maria,
watch this!

Okay.

So, you knew that Sam was
Maurice Rosemont's son.

She told me before
Sam was born.

Did she ever express
fear or concern for him?

What do you mean?

We do a lot of dancing
around the fire, you and I.

I'm going to assume
that you know what

I'm talking about.

I thought about it.

What you said.

That evil is the
absence of empathy.

I want to help you.

Mr. Rosemont told Whitney
that he'd leave his wife.

That it would be
a very ugly time.

She said she'd feared
for Sam's safety.

But then the cancer
came and he died.

What else?

She said there
were things

that people thought
she had that offered

protection for Sam.

I think she always
valued Sam's life

above her own.

Which tells you she
was a very good person.

I've been unfair,
I know that.

Aunt Maria.

Watch this!

That's great, Sam!

Look out, guys.

Don't hurt yourself!

Here we go.

Yeah!

Nice, man.

When your sister came
in the limousine...

ever speak
to the driver?

Ramon.

Nice man.

He liked Sam.

Still sends him
birthday cards.

So, you know
his full name?

Yes.

Ramon Makasap.

He's Filipino.

I have his address
and phone number.

When Mr. Rosemont was dying...

she kept him prisoner
in that house.

Ramon, recognize this man?

Yeah.

Kankeredes.

No good.

Was he around when
Mr. Rosemont was sick?

She moved him
right into the house.

Mr. Rosemont knew,
but the poor guy

was too sick to care.

He just wanted to see
Whitney before he died.

That wasn't possible?

I brought Whitney
to see him.

He was so happy, he cried.

But Mrs. Rosemont came home,

bad scene.

Knowing her,
I'm not surprised.

Ah, she scream,
"Get that bitch

out of my house."

I took Whitney home.

And when I came back,
she's there with

some lawyer and she says,

"Mr. Rosemont is dead
and you're fired."

What about other servants?

Any way to reach them?

I don't know.

Ilodea went back
to Guatemala.

She's the one who told
me old lady Rosemont

was having sex
with Kankeredes.

And doing weird stuff.

Wait, she saw them?

No, but she'd hear
this one loud snap.

Like an empty gun.

And pretty quick
the old lady

would start groaning,

you know,
liking it.

You saw the boy Sam?

How is he?

He's fine.

He's learning
to skateboard.

I hope that old bitch
don't kill him.

*

Ramon was right.

Rosemont had left
300 million to his wife,

but there was
another heir,

a boy who couldn't
fight yet for his share.

Maurice Rosemont's
illegitimate son

by Whitney Lynde.

Three hundred million.

Enough motive for
a search warrant.

You hope for an
element of surprise.

With people of influence,

it's never the case.

I'm representing
Mrs. Rosemont.

I'll take that.

You sure do
get around.

Okay, the warrant is
specific to those rooms

allegedly inhabited
by Mr. Kankeredes.

Tire impressions of
Mrs. Rosemont's vehicles,

and we'll see to it
that it's limited

only to the items
listed herein.

Felix, show them
the guest room,

and no use of any
lavatory at all.

Also, would you please
have maids standing by

after they leave,

because I'm sure it's all
going to be a terrible mess.

Don't you have things
to do, Detective?

Ample time to do them.

This is all absurd farce.

Well, let's see how you
feel when we connect you

to the man who killed
your husband's mistress.

We've got testimony.

Not from him.

Actually, the doctors
think he's improving.

Oh, don't attempt
a bluff, Detective.

Come on, all you have
are lies from--

from disgruntled
former employees.

What happened?

What?

Not piled high anymore.

Word get out,
people cut you loose?

Not a good sign.

I give high marks
to the maid.

This place has been
wiped very clean.

A few smudges,
some partials.

Just do the best you can.

Hey guys!

Found this under
the mattress.

What is it?

My mother uses
those for cortisone,

gives painless injections.

Injections?

Yeah.

You place
a hypodermic in it,

set the spring...

draws the needle
in so fast

you don't feel it.

A snapper.

Bag it, make sure they check

for insulin residue.

Joe.

Lab matched
tread impressions

from the Rosemonts' Suburban.

The tire prints
we found where

Whitney's Mercedes was burnt.

We got her.

Not yet, but we're
getting a decent set

of circumstantial evidence.

Friday.

Uh-huh.

Will she come here?

Fine.

Straighten your tie,
that was the chief's office.

Maurice Rosemont's sister
and her attorney would like

a little chat.

Whitney Lynde's murder
forces me to reexamine

suspicions I've had
of my brother's death.

Are you questioning
whether it was

from natural causes?

There were reasons
for suspicion.

Helena buried him
before his death

was even announced
to the family.

She had possession
of the body.

Possession is
nine-tenths of the law.

So, you've been
sitting on this

for a long time?

There was a palimony suit.

Rumors of some
distasteful activities

involving my brother.

We didn't want a scandal.

Now you feel you
can't avoid it.

Maurice was a Jew.

She deliberately put him
in a Catholic cemetery

to prevent us
from mourning him.

The woman is vile.

If she murdered my brother

or Whitney Lynde,

I want her punished for it.

No argument there.

There's another issue.

A child.

Although I never approved

of my brother's relationship

with Whitney Lynde,

blood is blood.

That boy is not safe.

Why do you say that?

Towards the end,

communication with
Maurice was very hard.

Helena made sure he
was never on his own,

but he managed to send me
a letter and a videotape

of his visit with the boy.

The letter is filled
with his concerns.

It might be useful in
getting an indictment.

*

"Sam still doesn't know
that I'm his father.

But six months ago,
I was able to see him

on his birthday.

Thinking of it now
makes me even more aware

of how truly helpless I am.

Helena speaks of having
Sam and Whitney killed.

She says it to hurt me,

but I think she means it.

When I'm gone,
God knows what she'll do."

*

This nails her.

If it's admissible.

Well, why wouldn't it be?

Tarnower can think of
a dozen good reasons.

We have enough.

We just gotta
push the DA.

Push him.

You're good at it.

We can literally put her
in bed with Paul Kankeredes.

Her and his prints
on the snapper.

Kankeredes had to shoot
papaverine to have sex.

If she replaced
that with insulin,

should've killed him.

All circumstantial.

Doesn't mean it's not a case.

Also, tread and soil
match places her car

at the scene where
Whitney Lynde's

Mercedes was burned.

Her motive?

Maybe he found
the videotapes

and she wanted them.

Maybe she felt that
alive he was a liability.

We may never know
the true motive.

I'll try a conspiracy
indictment based on

your evidence that
Helena Rosemont

is connected to the
killing of Whitney Lynde,

but that's it.

If she conspired,
then it's murder.

I'll call Tarnower.

He can surrender her.

No.

That's the way people
like this are handled.

My partner and I feel
that everyone should

be handled the same.

We'll pick her up.

*

Mrs. Rosemont.

*

We're placing you
under arrest

for the murder
of Whitney Lynde.

Why, Felix!

Felix!

You have the right
to remain silent.

If you give up
this right...

anything you say
can and will be used

against you in
a court of law.

Felix!

Call Tarnower!

Tell him what
they're doing to me!

Tell him how
they're treating me!

Tell everyone, Felix.

Tell 'em we're treating her
like a common criminal.

Mrs. Rosemont, because
that's what you are.

That's all you are.

Son of a bitch!

Get in, get in.

It wasn't over yet.

Myron Tarnower
requested bail.

It was denied.

And Helena Rosemont
remained in her cell

while her accomplice
slept unaware.

*

And the little boy
learned how to skateboard,

not knowing that
Helena Rosemont's conviction

would invalidate
Maurice Rosemont's will.

Meaning a fortune would
go to his next of kin.

*

Helena Rosemont was
convicted of murder

in the first degree

and sentenced to die
by lethal injection

at the state penitentiary

in San Quentin.

In California,
capital cases

are granted
an automatic appeal.

Helena Rosemont is
currently on death row.

*

*