All language subtitles for RJ.Decker.S01E02.WEB

Previously on
R.J. Decker...

R.J. freaking Decker.
They let you out already?

I'm a PI now.

-Detective Abreu. How are you?
-How is everything
at the trailer park?

You making new friends?

I'm on trial.

Good luck today.

Mm-hmm. Thanks.

Please state your name
and relationship to the victim.

I'm Emi Ochoa. Lucas is
my stepbrother and that's
the man who almost killed him.

If I hadn't lied to protect
Lucas, there would have
been consequences.

But it was still wrong
and I'm sorry.

A sinkhole opened up
outside your window
three weeks ago

and you didn't come
to stay with us then?

You wanted to see me?

You can stay here one week.

And then you go.

I was exonerated. It's
the very first thing I did.

I bought a scratcher
and that scratcher paid out
a million bucks.

I'm not released this day
instead of the next,

who knows what becomes of me.

- Go, go, go!
- -Objective, south door!

- Objective on the left.
- Contact!

Don't move.
Hands in the air.

Clear the corners!

Clear out.

We got ourselves a farm.

Hot damn,
that's a lot of weed.

In case you were wondering
which of your pals
tipped us off,

it was an old lady
who walks her dog around here.

Kept reporting suspicious
activity like she was trying
to win a radio contest.

Karens, am I right?

It's not cannabis,
it's carnivorous.

I said it's not cannabis,
it's carnivorous.

They're not marijuana plants,
they're Venus flytraps.

- Hey, Detective, over here.
-Let's go.

Is that a meat grinder?

You gotta see this.

Question for you, son.

Who exactly have you
been feeding to your plants?

Come on.

- You're real bad at this, bruh.
- Okay.

Seriously, if breaking
into cars were baseball,
you'd be the Rockies.

Oh. Well, maybe
if I had a better teacher...

You got the best in Fort Laud.
Don't blame me for
your old man fingers.

Whoa, I think you mean
you were the best, right?

Because you know what happens
if I find out you're unretired?

-You tell my mom.
-Yes.

-Which is worse
than telling the cops.
-That's right.

Ain't happening.
I am D-O-N-E. Done, son.

Stupid pick is broken
or something.

Well, how'd you do that?

-What are you doing to my car?
-Oh, hey, Cath. This is Darius.

He's helping me out with this
new skill I might need as a PI.

-It's 9:00 a.m. on a Monday.
-Is it?

Shouldn't Darius be in school?

No, ma'am. Some dude
who lives near the school
lost his boa constrictor.

We're all supposed to stay home
until Animal Control finds it.

- Keep trying.
- Thanks.

I found the key to
the file drawers, unless you'd
like to pick that lock too.

Okay. This is great.

Now I have a place
to, uh, put all my files.

-I take it things
are still a little slow?
-Yeah.

Yeah, they're a bit slow.
They're picking up.

Wish texted me last night,
said he had a new client
for me.

Oh, shoot, actually I got
to meet the guy in 20 minutes.

Will he be older than 12?

Hey, where's the client?

Oh, God.

Wish.

I mean, we've been over this.
I-I...

I need work.

-I don't need charity.
-This is a genuine case, R.J.

Genuine case, really?

Like-Like the case
of the missing deep fryer?

You remember that one?
You told me it was stolen,
but that was bull.

It was just out for repairs.

Then there was the time
you wanted a list of names

background-checked
so they could work here,

only they turned out to be
the starting O-line
for the '84 Dolphins.

I swear, had any of those
gentlemen been interested,
I'd have hired them.

Wish...

You remember me telling
you about Waylon Abernathy?

Yeah.

Yeah, of course, he was
your cellie the first time
you got locked up.

Showed you the ropes
just like you did for me.

Prison being prison,
where the wrong look
at the wrong time

can get you a sharpened
toothbrush through
the old Adam's apple.

I think you'll agree.

It's the, uh, sort of kindness
you don't soon forget.

-Mm-hmm.
-Hence why I want to hire you

to get Waylon's son, Marcus,
out of a spot of trouble.

This trouble,

you swear it's real?

Oh, it's real.

He even made the paper.

Marcus.

How you doing?
My name's R.J. Decker.

-I'm a--
-Private investigator.

Yeah, I know the guards
told me, but if you're looking
for work, I'm sorry.

-I can't afford you.
-I'm actually already paid for.

I'm a friend of Wish Aiken's.

Mr. Aiken sent you?

Yeah, he sure did.

He tells me there's no way
you could have done
what they're saying.

No, no, no, sir.
Not-Not in a million years.

So far all I know is what
I've read in the papers.

The police were expecting
to find marijuana
in your grow house.

It-It wasn't my grow house.

It was Clem's.

Clem Crayshaw.
He's the one who hired me.

He's a flytrap poacher.

He's a what now?

Flytraps are rare.

That's what makes
them valuable.

The only place
they grow naturally
in the whole world

is the southeast corner
of North Carolina.

And that's where
he would steal his.

So you and this Clem guy,
you guys were, what? Partners?

Clem was good at poaching.

He's terrible with plants.

He hired me out of
the garden center
I was working at

just to make sure his plants
were... fed and watered right.

And I knew it was wrong.
I... I just...

My girlfriend, Kelly Lynn,
she just told me she
was pregnant and I just--

Marcus, don't worry about that.
That's fine, but I got to ask,

how was it you didn't notice
a freezer full of body parts?

The freezer was in a storeroom
that Clem kept locked.

Before he hired me, he told me

he was feeding the plants
ground-up roadkill.

I said that was no good, that
the best thing for flytraps
was mealworms.

And so, then whenever I
got there, there was a big bag
of mealworms waiting for me.

Well, according to the paper,
the police found you with
a big old bag of John Doe.

Clem and I, we barely
saw each other.

And we spoke
mostly over Snapchat.

I'd tell him what I needed,
he'd make sure I got it.

And then a couple of days ago,

he sent me a message
and said that... he forgot
to order the mealworms.

And the flytraps
would have to go back
to roadkill for a while.

Don't-Don't you get it?

Clem killed John Doe.

He was using me and the plants
to get rid of the body.

The cops, they want me to
tell them who the dead guy is,
but I can't.

-I-I don't... I-I don't know.
-Right.

And since the app deletes
the messages after
you read them,

you can't prove Clem
told you to do anything.

You know, the night
they arrested me, they made me
look in the freezer.

It was a torso
and, uh, two arms and two legs.

And the head and the hands
were missing.

But Clem didn't just cut the
guy up, he carved him up too.

What do you mean?

The dead guy?

His biceps and butt cheeks
were missing.

His biceps and butt cheeks
were missing?

They have to be in that bag of
meat that Clem gave me, okay?

Them and the head
and the hands all ground up.

Please, I just want
to go home to Kelly Lynn.

I just want to help
with the pregnancy.

You have to find Clem.

Yeah, look at those priors.
She's not the one
we're looking for.

-Hey.
-Print that for me, would you?

-I was just in
the neighborhood, and--
-You want something.

Mel, can't a guy living
in his ex-wife's pool house

pay her new wife a visit
without wanting something?

I mean, please.

Mm-hmm, if you didn't,
you wouldn't be
holding a bag of

what I assume are pastelitos
from my favorite bakery.

All right.

-I caught a new case.
-Mmm.

Marcus Abernathy.
He's accused of--

Oh. Yeah, turning some John Doe
into plant food. Yeah.

-Yes.
-Not my case. Can't help you.

- Okay, well, even if it isn't your case...
- -Detective.

...you could give me
a wee peek at the case file.

I got a lead on a new suspect
I like for it, Clem Crayshaw.

I just... I want to know
if he's on your radar.
That's all I want to know.

Uh, meet me outside
in ten minutes.
I'll bring you the files.

- Really?
- No, idiot.

-Oh.
-Also, the house,

stop leaving the seat up.
You live with three women.

Three, R.J.

- Kelly Lynn,
it's, uh, Aloysius Aiken.

I believe Marcus's public
defender told you to expect me?

So, uh, Marcus's attorney said
that you were friends

with Marcus's dad or something?

Yeah, Waylon.

Yeah, me and him, uh, did
a stretch together

at Zephyrhills Correctional
about 20 years ago.

You know, Waylon took me
under his wing,

helped me understand
what it took to survive.

Taught you how to make
shivs and stuff like that?

No, um, the opposite.

You know, he taught me
how to keep a low profile,
avoid confrontations.

If it weren't for old Waylon,
a decent and thoughtful man,

despite his penchant
for cloning credit cards,

ain't no way
I'd have made it through.

Marcus never really talked
about him.

Yeah, well, Marcus never got
to know him.

Yeah, Waylon was already
serving his sentence
when Marcus was born,

and a couple of years later,
Waylon was diagnosed
with leukemia.

Yeah, before he died
in the infirmary,

he made me promise
to, uh, keep an eye on his boy.

Make sure he didn't wind up
where we had.

How's that going?

Well, uh, need anything else,

let me know.

Darla Sims.

Hi, uh, my name is R.J. Decker.

I'm a private investigator.

I was hoping I could ask you
a few questions

about your ex-husband,
Clem Crayshaw?

Can you come back at 05:00?
That's when I close.

I'll answer
any question you like.

I mean, is there any reason
why we can't talk right now?

I'm at work.

When I'm at work,
talk is for customers.

No. No.

Clem is a crook
and a so-so lay,

but no way
could he kill anyone,
let alone cut them in pieces.

Well, there is
a John Doe in the morgue
that might say otherwise.

-Frame-up.
-Frame-up?

It has to be.

The Clem I know
wouldn't hurt a fly.

I take that back.

He must have hurt flies
with all the damn flytraps.

-Okay, so you knew about them?
-Sure.

Did you know he was a poacher?

I even went
on a few "expeditions" with him

-and his pal, Gary,
to North Carolina.
-Sorry, who's Gary?

-Is Gary a business partner?
-Drinking buddy.

He has that
flower shop on Cordova,
Gary's Flowers.

He would help Clem keep
the little buggers alive

on the drive back
to Fort Lauderdale.

Have you heard
from Clem lately?

Last time was...
about a year ago.

I texted him that he was late

on an alimony payment
and he replies with this.

Oh. He mooned you.

Okay. What are these?
Are these tattoos?

Clem is a big Doors fan.

The one on the left cheek
is supposed to be Jim Morrison.

-I see that, yes.
-Mm-hmm.

And on the right, you got most
of the lyrics to "The End."

-Ah.
-I didn't think it was funny...

...but he sure did.

Does Clem have
any other tattoos?

Hey, Wish.

We got a problem.

Is that someone's rear
you're showing me?

Yeah, it's the rear of the guy
Marcus was working for,
Clem Crayshaw.

The one he said had
to be the real killer?

Look at the tattoo.

"The End."

Oh, it's pretty good.

Actually, it's bad.

According to his ex-wife,
the only other tattoos he had
were on his arms.

Stick of dynamite
on each bicep.

So?

So the body the police found
in the freezer,

it wasn't just missing
its head and hands,

it was missing his butt
and biceps too.

Because if I'm right,
it's because the killer wanted

to get rid of all of John Doe's
identifying features.

Teeth, fingerprints,
and tattoos.

I don't think Clem put
the body in the freezer.

I think Clem was the body
in the freezer.

Marcus told you this
Clem guy had to be the killer.

Finding him was how you
were gonna clear Marcus

of John Doe's murder,
but if Clem is John Doe...

...who the hell
was sending instructions
to Marcus over Snapchat?

Well, you're assuming
somebody was.

Wish, this case, it's not about
a payday for me, you know that.

I-I want to do right by you
as badly as you want
to do right by Waylon.

- But?
- But...

You sure Marcus
couldn't have done this?

Hell, you met him.

-What do you think?
-Look, hear me out.

Marcus found out
he was having a baby.

Maybe he realized
he needed to make more money.

So what?
He kills his boss to take over his flytrap business?

Uh-huh.

No, uh-uh.

Marcus didn't do this.

You stay the course,
find a way to figure it out.

But if the police don't
already know Clem is John Doe,

they're gonna know soon,
and they're going to turn up
the heat on Marcus.

Well then, you're gonna have
to work fast now, won't you?

Okay.

-Morning.
-Shoot.

Sorry.

I tried your office,
it wasn't open yet.

So you figured you'd wait
out here like a stalker?

I thought seeing me
in a parking garage might bring
back some pleasant memories.

Wha...

What do you want?

Well, I have a new client,
Marcus Abernathy.

The police and the DA's office
like him for murder. I don't.

So?

So the district attorney
is a political ally
of your dad's.

I repeat, so?

Listen, I'm flying
a little blind here, okay?

I wanna know if the police
have anything on Marcus

other than him being
in the vicinity of the body.

I-I wanna know if they looked
at any other suspects.

So you want me to flex
a little Ochoa muscle,

find out what the DA's
office knows that you don't?

Mm-hmm.

So this is how we square things
between us,

me doing you favors
so you can make your $50
an hour plus expenses?

Or yeah, or you know,
you could go to prison
for 18 months.

Hmm. Mm-hmm.

What's your client's name?

Knock, knock.

I just wanted to come
and say thanks for coming
to see me yesterday.

Brownies...
...homemade.

Wha...

-Well, aren't you sweet.
-Oh, please.

Mmm, for all you're doing...

it isn't enough.

- Oh.
- Oh.

I can't believe that
Marcus never told me

that he knew
an honest to goodness
lottery winner.

I did, um, Google you
after you left,

- saw your whole story.
- Oh.

No, I-I confess,
I will never understand how

so much good fortune
landed on someone like me.

But the Lord,
like the Florida State
Lottery Commission,

works in mysterious--
Whoa.

Like I said,
the brownies aren't enough.

No, no, no, no, ma'am.
Uh-uh, nope, nope, nope.

Tell me that you don't like
what you see.

Stop. All I see...

All I saw was a woman
carrying the child

of a young man
who I care about like family.

I'm not pregnant.

I just told Marcus
that to kick his butt
into high gear,

get him making some real money.

Did it ever occur to you
that if you hadn't,

then maybe he wouldn't
have taken the job that
ended up landing him in jail?

Clothes back on.

I will scream.

I know that
you care about Marcus,
but he's a terrible provider.

He promised me
two years ago that
we would move to Nashville,

and now every time
it comes up, it's just...

..."Oh. Sorry, babe.
Can't afford it."

And last month when my car
got impounded and I said that

I needed it back,
like, yesterday.

"Oh. Sorry, babe.
Can't afford it."

Okay, so-so that's
why you're here, because
you think I got real money?

No, it's because
you're so good-looking.

If you're gonna get Marcus
out of jail, do it fast.

We got bills piling up.

Hey, how much for one of these?

The big ones are 50,
small ones are 30.

You know, it's funny,
I-I didn't know flytraps
were native to Florida.

They're not.

Oh.

Let me guess, you have a guy?

Uh, something like that.

Is his name Clem Crayshaw
by any chance?

Hi, I'm R.J. Decker.
I'm a private investigator.

Probably should have
started with that.
You're Gary, correct?

I got your name from,
uh, Clem's ex-wife, Darla.

Am I in some sort of trouble?

Well, Gary, that depends.

Uh, you didn't happen
to chop Clem's head off

so you could steal
all his flytraps, did you?

Do you really think that
body they found was Clem's?

-I do.
-Oh. Oh.

You know
those flytraps in there?
Clem didn't charge me for them.

He would just come in
sometimes and...
...he'd leave a few.

And as far as killing him
for more? No.

No, the-the ones inside,
they've been there for weeks.

They're not really big sellers.

Well, that's something
I don't get.

I mean, Clem had thousands
of them in his grove,
he had thousands.

I mean, there must be
a market for them.

I don't know who
Clem sold his plants to.

I told him
I didn't want to know.

If what you're saying is true,
if Clem really is...

gone, then I'm not
the one who did it.

Hello.

So tell me,
what does a PI get up to

while other people are out
there doing his work for him?

Well, this one's been looking
up people arrested

for flytrap poaching
in North Carolina

to see if any of them
may have drifted south

to take over
Clem Crayshaw's business.

And?

Well, I'm hoping you had
better luck at the DA's office.

Okay, I learned two things.

First, you're right.

The police do know
John Doe is Clem Crayshaw.

They were just waiting
on DNA to confirm it.

Second, Clem had
a brother-in-law, Brody Weller.

Last year they got in a fight.
Brody beat Clem stupid.

Clem's sister, Brody's wife,
called the police,

but when they got there,
Clem declined to press charges.

Now look, I don't have
your keen investigative mind,

but I'd say that's
a pretty good alternate
suspect, wouldn't you?

Any idea where I can find him?

All I got was a work address,

but if you're gonna go there,
you should probably bring
some singles.

Do you like what you see?

- Sorry, what?
-I said, do you like what you see?

For a hundred bucks, handsome,
he'll dance just for you.

Oh. Well, yeah. Hey,
good to know. Good to know.

Actually, no, I'm looking
for an old buddy of mine,
Brody Weller?

Don't tell me.

- You two used
to dance together?

Very good, very good.
Little place down in Orlando.

- Oh.
- Yeah.

You're not looking
for more work, are you?
'Cause I could always use

another horse in my stable.

Uh, you know, sadly,
I blew out my, uh, knee
years ago, so...

Well, take it from an expert.

- You still got it
where it counts.
- Whoa!

Oh, my goodness.

Uh, is Brody around,
by any chance?

Oh, he's taking the stage
at this very moment.

Okay, yes!

If you're gonna stick around,
it's a $20 cover charge

and a two-drink minimum,
even for old buddies.

Okay. Thank you.

Yes, what's up?

I get detective work
isn't cheap, but I'm looking
at this tab I'm running,

and I had to ask,
are you really trying
to expense a pedicure?

One, yeah, I am.
Two, I'm kind of
in the middle of something.

Oh, what? A massage,

-a little aromatherapy perhaps?
-No, I'm waiting to talk

to a new suspect,
Crayshaw's brother-in-law.

He doesn't get off work
for a few hours,

so I thought
I'd take a peek inside his car.

If he is the one
that chopped up Clem,
there might be blood evidence.

You planning on getting inside
his car how, exactly?

You really wanna know?

Need I remind you,
you're on conditional release?

You get caught breaking
into a car, they'll violate you
back to prison.

Well,
it's a good thing I'm not
very good at picking locks.

-R.J.
-Look, I knew when I got into

this line of work,
there might be
the occasional bend of the law.

This isn't a bend, okay?

This is, uh, a break,
as in "breaking and entering."

Would you rather
Marcus go to prison instead?

Right, that's what I thought.
Okay, I gotta go.

-I'll call you
if I find something.
-Okay, but... R.J., R.J.?

-I did it.
-Yeah, you did.

I don't get why
we don't just call the cops.

Oh, really, Stevie?

Well, I can think
of plenty of reasons,
like you having more HGH

in your locker than,
I don't know, a hundred
pharmacies, for example?

Listen, she's right, guys.
You don't need
to call the cops.

I'm not a car thief.
I'm a private investigator.

Yeah, right, right,
and Ramone here,
Ramone's a real boxer.

Well, I only came to
ask Brody here a few questions
about his brother-in-law.

Clem?

Why the hell do you
want to talk about Clem?

Well, because
he's dead.

Clem's dead?

Still can't believe
Clem's gone. First Lacey
and now him.

Who's Lacey?

My wife, Clem's sister.
She passed a few months ago.

Hodgkin's lymphoma.

I'm truly sorry about that.

You came here
because you thought
maybe I killed Clem, right?

Well, yeah, you did beat him up
pretty bad last year.

Once upon a time, we were pals.

That all changed
after Lacey got diagnosed.

I wanted her
to do every little thing
he doctors told her,

but Clem was so damn sure
that his stupid flytraps
were the answer.

I'm sorry,
how would Clem's flytraps have
helped with Lacey's cancer?

I don't get that.

You know who
he was selling 'em to, right?

I mean, I assumed it was people
that collect exotic plants.

But then a buddy of his
made it sound like

that wouldn't explain
the volume of his crop,
so I-I don't know.

There's this holistic medicine
company, Venusian Health.

They would buy Clem's flytraps
in bulk and then, I don't know,

grind them up or something,
sell what's left as an extract.

Here in the US,
they're allowed to promote it
as an immunity modulator,

but that's only because
it's all the FDA will allow.

In other countries,
places with looser standards,

they're allowed to say
that it can do a lot more.

What, like treating cancer?

Something about how the extract
can eliminate abnormal cells...

- ...without harming
the normal ones.

Clem didn't used to be
all holistic.

Over the years,
the more Venusian Health
bought from him,

the more he started to
buy what they were selling.

The idea that
flytrap extract could help
or even save people like Lacey.

That's why I kicked him
out of our house that night.

I just couldn't listen
to it anymore.

And, the thing is though,
after Lacey passed,
Clem did a 180.

He said he was gonna do,
like, a deep dive into
all things Venusian Health.

-He tell you what
he meant by that?
-No.

But last week
he left me this voicemail.

Brody. I just--
I just wanted to say I'm sorry.

All the false hope I
gave Lacey, all the false hope
Venusian gave me.

I want you to know they're
not going to get away with it.

I love you, brother.

-Last Tuesday.
-Is that important?

Well, as far as
I've been able to tell,

that's right around the last
time anyone saw Clem alive.

Is that you, R.J.,
or does my wife need
to get her gun?

It's me. No need for gunplay.

Well, matter of opinion.

- Hey.
- Oh.

Oh, my God,
what happened to your face?

Oh, forget the face.
Why do you smell like stripper?

The answer to both questions is
it's complicated.

Uh, are you free
tomorrow morning?

Why?

Oh, he needs a favor.

I can smell that on him too.

Actually, I'd be
the one doing the favor.

Uh, I may have a story for you
and the Herald , a big one.

One thing that
never ceases to amaze me
is the number of people

who think the idea
of treating disease

with carnivorous plants
is just some passing fad.

The fluid from unopened
monkey pitchers has been used

to treat incontinence
for centuries.

In Renaissance Italy, the best,
most effective aphrodisiac,

was a cordial water made
from Drosera rotundifolia.

Uh, do you need me
to spell that?

No, thanks. I'll look it up.

Most in the mainstream media
tend to look down their noses
at alternative medicine.

I commend
The Broward County Herald
for exploring

what we do instead of trying
to tear it down.

Well, like I said on the phone,

I guarantee the piece
I'm writing isn't about
the efficacy of your product,

but I couldn't help
noticing that

in other countries
it's advertised as
treatment for cancer.

Here in the US,
it's only ever described
as an immunity booster.

Mmm.

Uh, my lawyers,
they're very good,

they'd probably tell me
I shouldn't even dignify
that question.

And they would definitely tell
me it would be wrong to suggest

that the American FDA is deep
in the pocket of Big Pharma.

I think your photographer
is a little lost.

-Hey, not much for you
to see back there.
-Oh, yeah.

You want to get one
of me near the logo?

Great.

-Here?
-Uh, that'd look great, yeah.

Yeah, that looks good.

Yeah, right there. Good.

Hydrogen peroxide,
I don't suppose that's
one of your secret ingredients.

Why would it be?

Based on my research, some
homeopathic practitioners say

it can treat dementia and
enhance immune system function.

This despite the fact
that toxicity from the stuff

can lead to hemorrhagic
gastritis and organ rupture.

You're forgetting
mucosal blistering.

That's why our
hydrogen peroxide is just to
clean the floors around here.

The, uh... the flytraps you use
to make your extract,

they come from
a grower named Clem Crayshaw.

Is that right?

Uh, the name rings a bell,
but I'd have to go back
and check on that.

Why is he asking me questions?

Clem Crayshaw
was murdered last week.

The police think he was killed
by a kid who worked for him,

but an anonymous source
left me with the impression
it might be someone else.

There was a break-in here
last week, yeah?

Your assistant called it in,

told the police your computer
was missing, then you
showed up, said it wasn't,

you just took it home
to do some work.

-Point being?
-Well, I just... I don't know.

I just... I can't help
but wondering...

was it Clem that broke in here?

If it was,
did he take your computer?

And if he did...

...what did he find?

I found rumors
that the approvals
you received to promote

your extract
as a cancer treatment

in Belgium, Hungary,
and Portugal could only
have been the result of bribes.

- Okay.
- If the rumors are true,

maybe there was
some record of those payoffs
on your computer.

Okay. This interview's over.

But please,
don't forget what I said.

My lawyers are very good.

-So, is he your guy?
-Oh, no doubt about it.

George, thanks for coming.

My pleasure, Detective Abreu,
but it's still Georgana.

So you said in your email
that you wanted to talk about

the Marcus Abernathy case,
but if memory serves,
it isn't yours to discuss.

You got me, Georgana.

Or do you prefer ADA Ballard?

Either will do.

The case is Detective Canty's,
but he and I spoke,

and he agreed
you should hear what...
my associate has to tell you.

Why do I recognize that man?

Probably because your office
prosecuted him for assault
a couple of years ago.

So if I'm following,
you believe

-that Marcus Abernathy
is innocent.
-Mm-hmm.

You think the more likely
perpetrator is this man,
Remington Aubrey.

Like we said, there's
been rumors of bribes
in other countries--

Rumors don't tend to
mean much in a courtroom.

Give us some time to dig up
more evidence on Aubrey.
That's all we're asking.

Clem Crayshaw
was sending instructions
to Marcus over Snapchat.

Somehow that correspondence
continued after he was dead.

If we're right, it's because
Aubrey took his phone
after he killed him.

He's the one who told
Marcus to feed the plants
that bag of Clem's remains.

If it hadn't have been
for the raid,

Aubrey would've kept using
Marcus until every last bit
of Clem was gone.

Get a subpoena.
Search Aubrey's home.
Search his business.

-Who knows?
Maybe we find Clem's phone.
-There's no point.

How could you look at all
this and say there's no point?

Because Marcus Abernathy
took a plea deal this morning.

He confessed to everything.

He's our killer.

Sorry, guys. I had
a long talk with my lawyer.

This way they take
the death penalty
off the table.

No more murder charge, just...

aggravated manslaughter,
which is 30 years.

But-But with good behavior,
I could be out in 20.

And you know I'm gonna be
well behaved, Mr. Aiken.

You didn't do it, Marcus.

Yeah, I mean,
of course I didn't...

But come on, guys, I...
I got a good woman at home.

I got a kid on the way.

It's-It's too much to live for,
to-to take a chance
on a trial, right?

Hey. I can get him
a new lawyer. Tell him
Marcus changed his mind.

He wants to plead not guilty.

Well, you could do that,
man. That won't make
the confession go away.

The DA's office will still
be able to use it at trial--

Guys. Hey.

I'm right here.

And I told you, I'm okay.

It's all gonna be okay.

Do you guys know who's
taking care of the plants now?

-What's that?
-The flytraps.

I-I was thinking
about them yesterday.

Do you know if the police
are tending to them, or if--

Uh... Well, I can...
I can look into that for you.

Yeah, just make sure
they're not overfeeding
the little guys.

I mean, last count
there were 24,338 plants.

That works out to 10.2 pounds
of food per feeding,

one feeding per week.
Anything more, and you're
gonna lose a few.

Did you work all...
all that math out yourself?

- Mmm. Yeah.
- Huh.

The day Clem told me
he was going to bring me
that bag of meat,

I, uh, had to tell him
more than once, "10.2 pounds,
Clem, nothing more."

And, uh...
Oh, I guess it wasn't...

actually Clem,
it was the other guy.

But still, I mean, he listened.
Next time I weighed the bag,
it was just right.

Did you know the human
head weighs eight pounds?

The...

Jerry Maguire,
the cute little kid
with glasses,

blonde hair, remember him?

-Uh, yeah.
-I didn't see that one.

Hold on a second.

Hmm.

The average human head
actually weighs 11 pounds.

Oh, that's great.
Well, next, maybe you can
tell us the air speed velocity

of an unladen swallow.

No, no, no, no, no.

If you add up all of Clem's
body parts, head, hands,
butt cheeks, biceps,

all of his missing parts,
it must weigh what,
20 pounds? More?

Marcus just said the bag
that Aubrey left for him
weighed exactly 10.2 pounds.

If that was the case,
then where's the rest of Clem?

Why hasn't it turned up yet?

Hey.

How's the food here?

-Hey.
-As much fun as it was

to meet ADA Ballard today,

do you know anyone else
that can get us

a warrant to search
Remington Aubrey's warehouse?

Why?

Pretty sure I know how
we can prove he killed
Clem Crayshaw.

Mr. Aubrey, Detective Abreu.

-I believe you already
met Mr. Decker.
-Hello.

I was asked to be here by 9:00.

-It's almost 11:00.
-Is it?

If the lack of common
courtesy isn't on the list

of reasons to defund
you people, it should be.

Well, I'm not a cop.

I'm a PI, but if it makes
you feel any better,
I am pretty defunded.

The reason we're late is my
colleagues needed a little time

to execute a search warrant
at your warehouse.

What could the police
possibly have been looking
for at my warehouse?

Uh, the rest of Clem Crayshaw.

When you were using
his phone to pretend
to be him, Marcus Abernathy

told you that Clem's flytraps
could only take 10.2 pounds
of food per feeding.

Problem was you had at least
twice that, didn't you?

Most of Clem was found
in his freezer.

A little more was in the bag
Marcus was holding
when he was arrested,

but some of Clem
was still out there.

And the question
was where and why.

Part of the why
was Marcus's insistence

on only feeding the plants
10.2 pounds of meat.

But I think the rest of it
had to do with how damn hard

it would have been
to get a human head
inside of a meat grinder.

Clem was my sole
supplier of Venus flytraps.

Why would I kill him?
Why would I hurt
my own business?

Probably because he was about
to hurt it a lot more.

He stole your computer
and there was something on it

that would have proven
your company isn't on
the level, so you killed him.

Hey. You ever heard
of piranha solution?

No? It's basically
sulfuric acid on crack.

I learned about this stuff
when I did time with a guy

that tried to use it to burn
through the top of a safe
he was breaking into.

Did he just say
he was an ex-convict?

This guy's plan did not work
out so well. All he managed
to do was start a fire.

See, piranha solution
can be a little unpredictable
when it comes to metal,

but what it's really good at,
almost 100% of the time,

is turning bone and flesh
into soup.

Piranha solution
only has two ingredients.

One, Mr. Decker already
mentioned, sulfuric acid,

and the other is
hydrogen peroxide.

Yesterday you said you
had a barrel of that stuff

to clean the floors,
but see this one here?
See this barrel here?

See where it's all turned
to the wall, and you can
just make out the "S-U-L"?

And that got me thinking,
what if it's filled
with sulfuric acid?

After you realized
you couldn't use Marcus
and the flytraps to get rid of

a human skull, you ordered
both of these barrels
through your company.

You mixed their contents
in the sink at your warehouse,

and then in went
Mr. Crayshaw's head.

Or was there some other reason
you didn't want me
taking pictures of it?

These are two partially
dissolved teeth CSU found

in the sink's drain trap
a little while ago, and this...

is the bullet
for a 9-mm pistol.

You're the registered owner of
a 9-mm pistol, aren't you?

Got your message, but
if you asked me to come here

because you're having
second thoughts
about us getting together--

I most assuredly am not.

Okay.
Then why am I here?

Our boy Marcus is about
to be released from jail.

Police finally realized
he isn't a killer.

You could have just said so
in your text.

Hey, hey.

-How's my timing?
-In the nick of, buddy.

You know this goes
on my bill, right?

Anything else?

Uh, yeah, I'm throwing Marcus
a little welcome home party
on the beach tonight.

The reason I wanted
to tell you in person is

because I want
to make sure you weren't there.

Well, last time I checked,
this is America, and I can go
where I want.

Well, it is, and you can.

Actually, see the other reason
why I wanted you to stop by...

My car.

You...

You got it out of impound?

I paid. A friend
handled the transport.

You know, the other day
you said you'd rather
be living in Nashville.

But you didn't say why.

My sister lives there.

It's not like we're close
or anything, but...

she writes to me sometimes
and makes it sound...

I don't know... nice.

Go there. Try to find nice.

'Cause whatever
you're looking for right now,

it ain't here
in Fort Lauderdale
and it ain't with Marcus.

All I've been is bad to you.

Why are you being
so good to me?

You remind me of someone.

I loved her, and yet
if someone sent her off
to Nashville way back when...

Well, things would have ended
up better for the both of us.

You drive safe now.

Would you believe this is
my first "glad you're not
going to prison" party?

Well, knowing who your dad is,
no. No, I would not.

-What happened to your eye?
-This?

Misunderstanding.

-You want a beer?
-No.

-No? You're not staying?
-I'm not staying.

Mostly just came to see
if we're even now.

You gave me a name.
You gave me one name, one name.

Turned out the guy
didn't even do it.

What's your obsession
with us getting even?

What is it?
If we get even too fast,

there won't be any reason
for me to call you anymore.

- No, I mean,
is that what you want?

Getting too close
to a family like mine

could earn you
a return trip to Appalachia.

Is that what you want?

I don't know what I want.

Not yet.

Well, then, for tonight,
it's probably best to just
celebrate what we've got.

In my case, an eight o'clock
reservation to Decado.

You and the other dirtbags,
have fun.