All language subtitles for Law and Order S02E10 Heaven.DVDRip.HI.en.UNVSL

Narrator: In the criminal justice
system, the people are represented

by two separate yet
equally important groups...

The police who
investigate crime,

and the district attorneys
who prosecute the offenders.

These are their stories.

(muffled yelling and banging)

(screaming)

Hello? Hello?

(speaking Spanish)

(sirens blaring)

Get on the other
side of the street.

Move it!

You got the 2
1/2" line over here?

Dispatch, 1047 on blocks 3-4-7.

1047.

Fireman: Up there! Go, go, go!

(over radio) 5-0E to battalion,
1045. I got two victims.

Battalion to dispatch,
1044 on blocks 3-4-7.

Ready in here!

Hey, Mike you gonna put
the fire out all by yourself?

- Every kid wants
to be a fireman.
- Or a cop.

Not me. No?

When I saw my old man,

which was like every
Sunday mornings at Mass,

- I swore I'd do
something different.
- What happened?

I grew up, I gue...

God help us.

Oh my God.

(theme music plays)

I've never seen this many.

You?

Not in civilian life.

God knows how many
are still up in there.

What was this place?

A social club.

Social?

Medic: Got another
one coming out.

- Sorry, fellas,
can't let you in just yet.
- We got tickets.

Hey, this isn't a
dick contest, buddy.

Are you saying it's arson?

Trust me, somebody laid down
a propellant between 1:00, 1:15.

The whole thing took no more
than two, three minutes. It's arson.

Great, then we can forego
the usual waiting period.

No, we gotta chop out the walls
and make sure there are no hot spots.

- No rekindles.
- And no evidence!

Look, we got the burn pattern,

we recovered a
piece of the device.

You go running off half-cocked,

fall through the ceiling, what
good does that do any of us?

- Call me impulsive.
- Monahan. Arson.

Cragen: And the death count?

We got, what, 51, Mike?

52. Club was on
the second floor.

The guy torched it from the
bottom or the middle of the stairs.

It was like, whoosh,
right up the chimney.

Anybody up above would
have been blinded by the flames.

This guy must've picked just the
right moment when nobody was outside.

Yeah, or nobody
remembers anything.

Oh, yeah? Why's that?

It's one of those social
clubs for Central Americans.

Honduras, El Salvador.

They don't have enough
heartache in their own country?

Yeah. They're here illegally.

They see an authority figure,
they shut their mouths fast.

Cragen: Well, this club...

Logan: El Cielo. Heaven.

Heaven.

Okay, assuming
that this is arson,

do we have any idea
who the owner is?

Well, a place like
this changes owners

the way you change your socks.

Hall of Records
opens in one hour.

It's Sunday, Mike.

- Maybe you ought to just...
- I don't care.

I can't sleep. Let's get on it.

We'll go to the hospital,
check for survivors.

Maybe somebody will get over
their problem with authority figures.

Is this the complete list?

So far. We've got the first 20.

The rest are at Mt.
Sinai and St. John's.

Piñero, Riojos, Santiago...

Have you sorted out
any of these people?

They're the lucky ones.

Yeah, I know, but
you talked to them.

I mean, did they all work there?

- Were any of them customers?
- I think the manager...

Yeah, Acosta, Gilberto.
Being prepped for surgery.

Better hurry.

Cerreta: Mr. Acosta.

You know the man you
had to throw out of the club,

the troublemaker...
What is his name?

(speaking Spanish)

Guillermo something.

His girlfriend's the barmaid.

Celia Montalbano.

So this was a lover's quarrel?

He says the guy's a drunk.

Bouncer throws him out, he threatens
to come back and wipe everybody out.

Mr. Acosta, what is
your bouncer's name?

Nurse: Guys, come on.

Now, the man can hardly breathe.

Pedro Cruz.

Thank you, sir. Thank you.

Pedro Cruz is...

not so lucky. DOA, St. John's.

What about that
barmaid? Celia something.

Celia, Celia, Celia,
Celia Montalbano.

Montalbano.

Released, Mt. Sinai, 7:00 a.m.

Thanks.

By the way, you were great.

Listen, you know
how gunshot vics act?

You mean, "Patch me up,
Doc, before the pigs get here"?

Yeah. You see
anybody with a bad burn,

- anybody acting like that...
- ASAP, Detective.

I owe you.

- Celia Montalbano?
- Si.

(speaking Spanish)

I've been here seven years.

We understand you
have a boyfriend.

No, I don't have a boyfriend.

(speaking Spanish)

A man named Guillermo.
We're told you and he...

He's a pig.

A borrachón.

I told him to stop pestering me.

We hear that he's
in love with you.

I can't help that.

Let me tell you
something, all right?

Word gets around that
he torched that club,

there's gonna be a lot
of people looking for him,

not just us. Understand me?

You're saying
Guillermo did that?

He's crazy, you know?

But he's not that bad.

Maybe you're right.

But I'm gonna need
his address, okay?

I haven't been out.

No television,
Guillermo? No radio?

All right, then, we'll
break the news.

Last night somebody
torched El Cielo,

and at least 50 of
your people died.

Doesn't that mean
anything to you, man?

Give him back his medicine,
maybe it'll help his memory.

Listen.

According to witnesses,
you made a big stink last night

around 11:00 p.m. What
did you do after that?

No sé.

No sé?

Or won't say?

All right, let's go.

Cerreta: Where
were you all that time?

I don't know.

Logan: Come on, Ruiz, think.

- I don't know.
- You got booted out
of the club...

We got traces of gasoline.

- Regular unleaded.
- Really?

What brand?

We can't get it that close,

But I can tell you
how the guy did it.

It's the old gas can
in the trouser trick.

Or in this case,
the thing that holds

the windshield
wiper fluid in your car.

I don't really follow.

It's simple.

You run a tube down
your leg out your sock.

Nobody sees a thing until...

And we're off to the races.

And this is a common MO?

Among your card-carrying
professional arsonists, yeah.

I mean, it's simple,
but it's tricky.

You got a container
of gasoline strapped

down there between your legs.

One false move, it's
bye bye future generation.

Our Mr. Ruiz here
does not strike me

as that smart, or that lucky.

He doesn't look like he could
burn his way out of a paper bag.

Fellas, Patrick seems to think
we're barking up the wrong tree

- with the jealous
boyfriend idea.
- Oh, really?

Last I heard, the crime
scene was too hot to get into.

Now you got him all sussed out?

We found this at the
foot of the stairs, Mike.

The guy was clever.

New variation on
an old arsonist's trick.

The guy's a firebug,
not a brain surgeon.

Phil?

Ruiz claims to be missing a
pretty crucial period of time.

But I don't know. Maybe
he was in a blackout.

I still can't imagine this guy
wanting to kill all those people.

Well, that might
be the guy, fellas.

I'm just saying, if I were you,

I would start with arson-for-profit
and follow the money.

You got a fix on
who the owner is?

- Yeah, Jose Rivera.
- Cragen: Okay.

Check him out after
you take Mr. Ruiz home.

Maybe something
will come back to him.

And fellas, tomorrow
the DA's office

is holding a press conference.

I would really like to
bring something to it.

(crowd yelling)

Back off!

Last night, sir, did you let
Mr. Ruiz into the apartment?

He said he lost his keys again.

Next time, I'll let you sleep
it off on the street, estúpido.

- When was that?
- About 11:30. The news
was just ending.

Do you know if Mr. Ruiz
went out again last night?

No way.

That borrachón was
dead to the world.

Logan: Oh well...

(sobbing)

Mr. Rivera.

- Yes?
- You don't seem surprised.

Cerreta: Doesn't seem
like much of a building

to cause all that
misery, you know?

- I don't own this building.
- No?

Just the chairs and tables.

I put up a new PA
system just last week.

- I'm sure they're all covered.
- I don't have insurance.

Can't get insurance
without papers.

You don't own it, who does?

Cubano named Marcos.

I begged him to put in
sprinklers, but he was too cheap.

You're such a safety nut, how come
you padlocked the only exit door?

- They were always like that.
- Oh, yeah?

I don't suppose it was to keep
people from sneaking in for free, huh?

I lost my only daughter
in there, mister,

and three of my cousins.

Now what have I got?

Captain Cragen can
we get a statement?

Showtime, Paul. Do
me a favor, will you?

Take the circus
outside with you.

They're here to
get your statement.

No comment. Quote, unquote.

- At least it'll save a few trees.
- Forget the trees.

- The whole town's
in an uproar over this.
- Oh, yeah, right.

Everybody's feeling a
lot of righteous indignation

over the tragic loss
of a lot of people

who ordinarily they wouldn't
have the time of day for.

- That's a bit cynical.
- Is that right, Paul?

You come up here with
the DA's press liaison,

we don't have a suspect,
we don't have an eyewitness,

and the only physical evidence
we do have we are not releasing.

You mean the melted
windshield cleaner gizmo?

- And you heard that where?
- Sources.

Come on, Captain, you got
half the city commissioners

scrambling to reassess the
licensing practices of these...

And scrambling to cover their
own asses, which is not my problem.

As soon as I have
something, Katrina, okay?

What about you?
Remember the rap?

"The city deplores the reckless
disregard for human life."

You give good soundbite, Paul.

Bunch of shell corporations.

Bottom line... the real
owner is a guy named Marcos.

The "Voice" named him
"Slumlord of the Year" in '87.

Hang on, please. And?

This guy's even done time for
safety code violations. He's that bad.

Excellent.

Cerreta: What time does
your boss usually get in?

Miss, it's important
we speak to him.

Has he called in for messages?

Have you called
Mr. Marcos at home?

Okay, give us his home address,

we'll go there ourselves.

Thank you.

- Mr. Marcos not here.
- We know.

- But where is he?
- He no come home last night.

Is Mrs. Marcos in?

She down at the morgue.

- At the what?
- The morgue!

- She down at the morgue.
- Oh, brother.

Thank you.

Yeah, I understand.

And please tell His Honor
that we are submitting

the overtime
paperwork to prove it.

Oh, no, no. Thank you.

Well?

The Coroner's Office has confirmed
Marcos's death at 10:21 this morning.

Smoke inhalation. And
that shoots arson-for-profit.

What is less than square one?

Minus zippo? Negative bupkis?

- Oh, please, God.
- That head nurse...

says some guy came in begging
them to take care of his leg.

Begging. Some kind of a
wound, plus a second-degree burn.

He took off, but they
got photos of him.

- X-rays?
- Yup.

- Don't forget a subpoena.
- You got it.

- What the hell is that?
- Something opaque.

Plastic, maybe.

Dr. Mendel wanted to remove it,

but like I said, the patient apparently
had a big day in front of him.

I bet.

We gave him cortisone, and
a cold compress for his leg,

and then he took off.

Limped off, actually.

With our piece of
evidence in his right thigh.

Please tell me you have
some paperwork on this man.

He paid cash, but...

he showed us his green card.

Made a big deal of it, actually.

I made a photocopy of it.

Daniel Esperanza.

28 East 137th Street.

Thank you. You're the best.

There is nothing wrong
with my legs, okay?

Believe me. We do, we do.

We just want to be sure.

- You seem anxious.
- Well, I'm modest. Is that a crime?

Come on, drop your
pants and we're out of here.

Okay? Let's go. Drop them!

Turn around, please.

- Nope.
- Okay?

Okay. Sorry for the aggravation.

Why didn't you come here two
weeks ago when my place was robbed?!

Couple of weeks ago a
junkie broke into my place.

- Did you lose much?
- $50, plus la mica... my green card.

Some junkie's got
your green card?

Yeah, it cost me five grand

plus three years
of running around.

I wanted to break his face,

but he started crying
he didn't have anything.

Plus he already
shoot it in his arms.

A junkie. What are you gonna do?

Yeah. What's his name?

Cheuy Bodillo, down the hall.

Thank you.

What's the matter, the
elevator out of service, Cheuy?

Cerreta: You are under
arrest. You have the right

to remain silent. If you
choose to waive that right,

anything you do say may be
used against you in a court of law.

Do you understand me?

Stupid, Cheuy.

Really dumb.

Steal a guy's green card,
and then show it to us?

Logan: Maybe he
thinks we're stupid.

I thought it might work.

We all look the
same to you people.

Using a stolen ID. That's
a federal rap, ain't it?

Cerreta: What the hell?

They're gonna take him
off our hands anyway.

Why should we waste any
more time with this mope?

What's the big deal?

I made some copies, okay?

Who'd you sell them to?

To the janitor in the building.

Plus some guy in the
street. I don't know.

That's all?

Who else, Cheuy?

Come on.

Cheuy: A buddy of mine.

He was in some kind of a jam.

What kind of jam?

He needed medical treatment.

No green card, no hospital.

He said there was a grease fire

at the restaurant
where he works.

Which one?

I don't know the name.

135th and Lenox, man.

Your buddy, the
cook, who was he?

Cesar Pescador.

Good.

- Have you a warrant?
- Nope.

And I don't have a
reservation either.

We're not interested in anything
you might be hiding. Not yet.

(speaking Chinese)

This guy limps pretty fast.

Get over here!

Keep your hands up there.

Cerreta: Are you Pescador?

You are under arrest.

You have the right
to remain silent.

If you choose to
waive that right,

anything you do say may be
used against you in a court of law.

Do you understand that?

I told you, I was frying
wontons, and the grease blew up.

No, you weren't working the night
of the club fire. We checked that.

I was at OTB till
it closed, man.

- I lost big time.
- What a surprise.

53 people died in that fire.

A lot of families are
hurting bad, Cesar.

Sometimes it helps to talk.

- Sometimes it hurts.
- Are you hurting?

Man, my leg is killing me, man.

- It's burning me up.
- Oh, yeah, why?

Too much sun, huh? Too much sun?

You'd think,
listening to this guy,

that this is some kind of a
shoplifting beef. I don't get this.

Ours is not to reason
why, Donny boy.

This freakin' yo-yo has
got guilt written all over him.

We're still gonna have to
determine a motive. Just in case.

In case what?

Look, this is the
way it went down.

This jerk lit the
trail of gasoline,

it went backwards up his
leg into the container, boom.

Now, that piece
of plastic in his leg

matches what we
found at the club...

- Case closed, right?
- Maybe.

Fourth and Fifth Amendments
enter in here, gentlemen.

Did I miss something?

This guy is here illegally.

Constitution
applies to everyone.

Including illegals.

It says you get to
cut my leg open.

No, that's a consent form. It
says you agree to let us remove

whatever is causing
the infection in your leg.

You didn't do anything wrong,
you got nothing to worry about.

I'm not loco. No damn butcher
going to cut my leg open.

All right, that's fine.
You want to be stupid.

I mean, you're going
to be limping on one leg.

You get it, genius?
Infection spreads.

The only way of saving
your life is to chop off that leg.

Don't I get a lawyer?

Yeah, you get a lawyer.

Cutting my client's leg open to
get a piece of plastic is an atrocity.

If Judge Waxman
grants my motion,

Pescador gets the best
medical care the city has to offer.

Intrusive procedures
will be minimal.

What about his well-being?

The operation could
be life-threatening.

He'll get better odds than
he gave the people at the club.

And if he didn't do it?

Surgery against his will.

It's the ultimate
invasion of privacy.

There are 53 families
screaming for your client's head.

His right to privacy...

That's for a court to consider.

Robinette: Your Honor, the
People would like to emphasize

the narrow scope of
the pending motion.

We feel the evidence,

currently imbedded
in the defendant's leg,

to be essential to the
prosecution of this case.

Judge: Thank you,
Counselors. Be seated.

This is a difficult decision.

It brings the rights of the
individual into head-on conflict

with legitimate
governmental requirements.

However...

I'm inclined to grant

the People's limited request.

What?!

- This is worse
than Castro, man!
- (yelling)

You can't cut my leg
without my say-so!

- I'm not going to no hospital!
- Order in this court!

I'm not going to no hospital!

- All of you, sit down!
- (yelling continues)

Quiet in this courtroom!

Quiet! I said quiet,
or I'll clear the court!

- Excuse me.
- (Gavel bangs)

Excuse me, Mr. Pescador.

We can and will. Now, sit down.

The defendant will submit
forthwith to the surgical procedure,

which shall be conducted
in a manner consistent

with this Court's
written ruling.

Arson-for-profit I
can understand,

but what was driving this guy?

Rage, maybe.

It's beyond me.

Robinette: You have a fix yet?

Polymer analysis.
Margin of error,

plus or minus a few measly
molecules, but not so you'd notice.

Meaning you've got a fix.

This piece?

The same plastic found
on the floor of the club.

- Absolutely.
- Windshield wiper reservoir?

Good old American plastic.
Still the best in the world.

It's a miracle this guy
didn't die of toxic shock.

The piece they took out
still has gasoline on it.

Robinette: Attempted homicide?

Those 53 people are
homicides! They're dead.

He didn't mean to
kill anyone, Paul.

Don't tell me you're even
thinking about negligent homicide.

Look, if he's only
a messenger boy,

he better start naming names,
or he's going down alone.

He says if he goes to prison,
the man'll have him killed.

Listen to me, man.

You don't go to jail, there's about
500 grieving relatives out there

who'll be happy to kill you!
You hear what I'm saying?!

I'll take my chances with them.

This is a ridiculous exercise.

No matter what, he's going down.

We send him upstate, downstate,

it doesn't matter,
somebody'll get him.

It's not a perfect world, Cesar,
but then you already know that.

(groans)

It ain't fair.

You know, that assassin
didn't even pay me.

- I get nothing for the deal.
- What assassin?

What's the deal?

Lawyer: Tell him, Cesar.

Tell him!

A lot of people give the Cubano

a lot of money
for their micas...

5, 6,000 cash.

And then they find
out they're bogus.

You know, a bunch of paper, man.

- So they start making noise.
- What kind of noise?

A lot of lawyers telling them,

"Hey, you got rights, too."

So the people, they
want to turn the Cubano in.

So he comes to me, and he says,

"Cesar, I tell you what to do.

You send those people a message.

You put the fear
of God into them."

By burning down the club?

It was supposed to be a warning.

Like what they
do in El Salvador.

The Cubano, he says,
"So some people burn?

Then so what?

There's a whole lot more
where they come from."

The people in El Cielo,

a lot of Salvadorans...

They got the message.

They got the message.

The Cuban... what's his name?

Guerra. Domingo Guerra.

He owns a club himself.

The Del Mundo.

Del Mundo.

Man: Guerra's my partner.

So he owns 50% of the club.

So he sits around
drinking Cuba libres.

I do all the work.

You got a partner?

- You're lucky.
- Where's Mr. Guerra now?

No idea.

(snaps)

What is this?

You can pull this strong arm
business in Havana, but not here.

I call my lawyer, he
calls it harassment.

We sue your butt
from here to Miami.

God bless America.

This is a search warrant.

It specifically allows
us to look for stolen

or forged immigration papers.

Now, I don't know about Havana,

but what happens in New York

is that the officers, in
pulling the place apart,

come across other things.

I can't believe
Mr. Guerra had anything

to do with that terrible fire.

I've heard the rumors
on the street, yes,

but a man of his stature?

Where is he?

I don't know.

But he maintains a
small office in the back.

Sometimes he drops
by, occasionally.

For a Cuba libre?

Mr. Guerra has many
irons in many fires, señor.

Green card apps.

We also confiscated two file
cabinets filled with completed forms.

If any of the victim's
names turn up...

Robinette: We're
still cross-referencing.

They use so many aliases,
it's hard to know who's who.

At 3,000 a shot, this guy's
making a lot of money.

It's funny we never
heard of him before.

I get the feeling he's greased

a lot of palms in the
Hispanic community.

Vergilio made him
sound like the Godfather.

I wonder what Guerra's
immigration status is.

I'm not gonna give you the old

"our records are
confidential" speech.

I didn't expect you to,
Robert. That's why I'm here.

I'm flattered.

But you overestimate
my clout, Ben.

I doubt that.

First Latino on fraternity row?

They'd never seen a
Cuban in New Hampshire.

- I guess I was a novelty.
- So off the record.

Off the record, I
know who he is.

Everybody in the community does.

He's got a lot of friends.

And I hear that he has
a lot of irons in the fire,

according to his
business partner,

and not all of them
are on the books.

Guerra is to the Latin community

what Adam Clayton Powell
was to the people of Harlem.

He's a hero.

Heroes don't incinerate

a room full of innocent people.

That's right.

And that's why Guerra couldn't
be involved in any of this.

It was an awful tragedy.

Maybe your friend's
hiding something.

Stone: The only possible
thing he is hiding is his agenda.

He's a political animal.

He's ambitious, but not dirty.

And since when is ambition...

and greed mutually exclusive?

You don't know him. I do.

Do you?

When I see 53 corpses
on the front page,

I don't see friendship.

I see bogus green cards,

I see intransigence
in the INS office,

and maybe I see a connection.

- Isn't that a bit of a leap?
- Fine. Prove me wrong.

"Un reunion de los amigos."

A meeting of friends.

- Where'd you get these?
- La Verdad...

The Cuban-American newspaper.

The guy in the shades
next to Diaz is Guerra.

The others are prominent
businessmen, politicians.

This one looks like
Robert's yearbook photo.

"I know who he is."

They look a little
more familiar than that.

He's got his arm around you.
What do you expect me to believe?

We're demonstrative people.
Anything wrong with that?

Give me a break.

Come on, Ben, you've been
to political parties yourself.

Everybody knows you, everybody
wants to have their picture taken with you.

Ordinarily, politicians
are discreet enough

to confine their dealings with
criminals behind closed doors!

I see, except Latinos.

We're all corrupt,
we're on the take.

Tinhorn dictators.

Don't start that oppressed
minority crap with me, Bobby.

We go back too far.

I'm out there insisting
your hands are clean.

My boss isn't so sure.

Okay. Ben...

Guerra helped
me get my first job

out of law school.
He helped a lot of us.

You needed a loan, he was there.

You needed tickets
for fundraising,

he'd have them printed,
then he'd throw in the labor.

That kind of a thing.

What about printing green cards?

On or off the record?

I don't think you understand
the gravity of this situation.

You administer a
green card program.

Guerra has an office
filled with forged forms

which he is selling.
Wake up, Roberto!

Okay.

What can I tell you?

For starters, where
was this taken?

This was the Latino
American Club,

116th Street and Second Avenue.

Domingo Guerra?

I'm Assistant District
Attorney Ben Stone.

This is ADA Robinette.

Would you like a
drink, Licenciado?

I'd like a word with you, sir.

I never set foot in El Cielo.

A disco for Salvadorans?

Do you consider yourself
above those people?

Am I being charged
with prejudice?

You can be charged
with conspiracy

to defraud the United
States government.

- So change your tune.
- United States?

Stone: Yes, sir.

Is the State of New
York pinch-hitting

for the federal
government, Mr. Stone?

No, but I'll tell you
what we can do.

We can charge
you with possession

with intent to sell forged
immigration documents.

That comes under state
and federal jurisdiction.

Then, of course, there'll
be Cesar Pescador's

testimony that you offered him
money to burn down the club.

(whispering)

My client denies
this charge, of course.

But he's wondering if you'd be
interested in talking to an INS agent.

Which agent?

A man he can implicate in
the deaths of these people.

In exchange for a
plea bargain, of course.

No, that's completely premature.

You give us the name of
the agent, and we'll see.

The man's name is Collins.

James Collins. Manhattan office.

Of course I know Guerra.

I've been investigating
him for years.

Why wasn't I apprised of this?

I don't bother you
with every minor case.

Excuse me... minor?

The guy hires illegals
to work day jobs.

They get 20 bucks
for 10 hours work,

Guerra gets 30 per head.

For this we get a
visit from the locals?

The District Attorney
has information

that you've been
skying green cards.

- You and Guerra together.
- (chuckles)

That's slick.

The best defense
is a good offense.

Where do they get this crap?

We are continuing the
investigation, Mr. Collins,

and if you care to cooperate...

Get lost.

You know the man.
What do you think?

We'll run an internal audit.

See how many apps he's
written in the past few years.

That's not good enough.

What do you want me to do?

First I give up my patron,

now it's coming down
on my own office.

Guerra: Real Havana cigars?

It's hard to find
in this country.

Not for long, I imagine.

Anyway, I don't smoke, and
neither do you in my office.

What are you bringing
to the table, Tommy?

Proof that my client was
an unwilling participant

in this green card business.

- I'm listening.
- Well, you know the game.

You want quid, we want the quo.

I'm listening, but I'm not about

to make a blind commitment
to a mass murderer.

Mr. Stone, I'm a businessman,

in business with an agent of
the United States government.

You are a man who betrayed
his own people at $3,000 a head.

I don't need to listen
to this cheap suit.

Mr. Guerra is willing to testify
against Mr. Collins of the INS,

to explain to the jury how
Collins conceived the plan

to hire Cesar Pescador,

and to threaten the patrons
of the El Cielo into silence.

Maybe you'd explain it to us.

Collins went to a big
league firebug for help.

- Name?
- He's called...

Professor.

My client will
explain this and more,

in exchange for one count
of conspiracy to defraud.

A class "E" felony? Give it up.

The bill of indictments
against you

will probably run to
hundreds of pages.

Now, somewhere in there

I might find a little
space for compromise.

Possibly a sentencing
recommendation.

(speaking Spanish)

He's being reasonable, Domingo.

You'd better cooperate.

Simmons, Alan
Brown, Max Dworkin,

Romaine Ireland...

Addresses?

Simmons still has
two to go in Attica,

Brown's dead,
Dworkin skipped bail...

Tahiti, if he's smart.

What about Ireland?

"Romie the Bug."

Nine years in the can for
torching a dry cleaner's in Queens.

Paroled last July.

Thanks. Mm-hmm.

I play bridge, tend my roses.

I read a lot. Yeah, right.

You're a gentleman
and a scholar.

I never killed anybody.

It's just a business,
and I'm retired.

Not entirely.

Somebody needs advice,

you give it to
them, sell it to them.

What am I saying?

Next thing you know, there's
53 corpses on the sidewalk.

Your MO, Professor... your neck.

Okay.

Guy comes up to me, I don't
know, maybe he's writing a book.

I give him the benefit
of my experience.

Which was?

Which was, if I was to
go into a crowded place

and didn't want to be noticed,

I'd use the hidden
container trick.

What kind of container?

Anything that'll fit
down your trouser leg.

In this case, a windshield
washer reservoir.

Is this the guy?

For complete immunity,
I could be 100% certain.

You rang, Chief?

Come in.

Sit down.

Did you remove the
windshield liquid reservoir

from your partner's
car, Mr. Collins?

The what?

What is this?

Read this.

It's a sworn,
notarized statement

from the mechanic who
services your official vehicles.

He witnessed you under the hood.

Well, he's a liar.

I don't care if it is notarized.

Did you ask Romaine
Ireland for advice

on starting the fire
in club El Cielo?

Never heard of him.

He's heard of you.

I don't care, I never...

This man.

Remember him now?

Am I under arrest?

Not yet.

Can I at least call a lawyer?

Guerra roped in the victims,

but it was Collins
who shut 'em up.

Then we put them
on trial together.

"Solicitation.

Criminal solicitation
in the first degree,

arson in the first degree,

murder in the second
degree... 53 counts."

This will make a
hell of an indictment.

Is Collins worse than Guerra?

A man who's in a position to help
his own people... do a thing like that?

What happened to "Give
me your huddled masses"?

What the hell's
happened to this city?

Woman: Anaya, Jose, 23;

Rivera, Jesús, 31...

Avilo, María, 18;

Ponce, Roberto, 33;

Sangre, Margarita, 27...

Chávez, Angela, 27;

Soto, Manuel, 42;

Soto, Paula, 36;

Franco, Clara, 18;

Ascencio, Salvador, 22;

Carillo, Gregorio, 19;

Rodas, Isabel, 29;

Domíngez, Tomás, 20;

Godínez, María, 19;

Blanca, María, 31;

Otero, Roberto, 27;

Prieto, Felicia, 18;

Morales, Yolanda, 29;

Sevilla, María, 21;

Vásquez, Blanca, 20...

(theme music plays)