All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.S13E11.Chosen.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

In the criminal justice system
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.

I'm gonna call her.

You're not going
to call her.

She gave me her card,
didn't she?

Uh, no, you gave her
your card.

Besides, she was, like,
undressing Darby anyway.

Get out.

With her eyes.

Whoa!

What's your problem?!

I'm hungry, man.
Help a guy out.

Wait, wait, I'll tell you
what, I'll tell you what.

You go into that bar

and you give
a guy named Darby

a big, wet one right
on the lips?

I'll buy you a Porterhouse
at The Palm.

No...pardon
my friend, pal.

He's in heat.

That's okay.

No way!

Darby's so smart, he should
really learn to lock his doors.

This is stupid.

I... I have nothing
to do with this.

You're right, you're right.

Never screw
with a man's wheels.

His golf clubs are
a whole other story.

You are crazy,
you know that?

He just got those
Titleists with the ti...

Couple of yuppies drank too much

decided they'd play
a prank on their buddy.

They thought they'd break
into a Lexus

but they got the wrong Lexus.

There's the Lone Ranger
and Tonto over there

and I sprang for the coffee.

Hey, much as I love
seeing your face, Garvin

pranks aren't exactly
our department.

Well, one man's prank's
another man's homicide.

Whoa. That does it.

I'm going to stay
with the Crown Vic.

Detroit knows a thing
or two about trunk space.

Word.

Well, we don't have
to go far

to find the murder weapon.

Let's get a look at him.

White male, looks to be
in his mid 20s.

The good news is,
he never saw it coming.

Uh, name's Gordon Meeks.

The car's registered
in his name.

Just bought it last month.

He should have thought
about leasing.

Captioning sponsored by
UNIVERSAL NETWORK TELEVISION

What do you want?

We don't know anything else.

A few more questions.
Your friend Meeks...

Our friend's name
is Ryan Darby.

Okay, well, who's
Gordon Meeks?

Don't you see
what they're doing?

They think we're
common criminals.

You did break
into a car.

It was a prank.

You know, "ha-ha."

We work at Bennington Hart
on Wall Street.

Oh, so, the thing about being common
criminals wasn't that far off.

If I didn't feel like
throwing up, I'd laugh.

Darby!
Thank God.

Tell them you got
a black Lexus.

What?! I drive a Porsche.

I'm sorry. I've never seen

either one
of them before.

You know what? I'm beat.
Let's just book 'em

and worry about it
tomorrow morning.

Damn it, Darby!

What the hell were you
going to do to my Titleists?

Oh, another prankster.

All right. All three
of you out of here.

Should have
let you rot.

There's nothing
on this guy Meeks.

The only prints
on the car were his.

Well, we got a name
for the deceased.

That usually comes
with an address.

Mr. Meeks had a nice life.

Armani, Brioni, Prada.

What happened
to "buy American"?

What happened
to American quality?

Hey, my suits were made
right on Sixth Avenue.

Yeah, ten years ago.

And your point is?

Whoa.

Looks like Gordon
hit the Lotto...

on more than one occasion.

Lenny, look.

Maybe it does.

What?

Grow on trees.

Oh.

Something tells me Gordon
was up to no good.

There's got to be over
$100,000 in here.

"DN345. PN937."

That looks like
some kind of code.

Think Meeks was
a loan shark?

I don't think he was
a Colonel in the Salvation Army.

What are you doing?

Well, these envelopes
were sealed.

The cash was probably
going out

which means that something
had to come in

to fill that suitcase.

"947 Fifth Avenue."

And that address
costs a chunk of change.

What you want
to do with this?

Well, there's this Ferrari
I've had my eye on.

Are you sure Gordon sent you?

Let's say we're here
on his behalf.

Because he usually tells me
ahead of time

if someone new
is coming.

Yeah, well,
Mr. Meeks is busy.

Was I short?

It looks like it.

I could have sworn

I counted out five
dimes, like always.

Ah. "Five dimes."

So Gordon Meeks is your bookie.

Who are you guys?

Detectives Briscoe
and Green.

Oh, come on!

You've got to have
something better to do.

Slow news day.

I'm a dermatologist.

You have any idea
how boring that is?

I put a few dollars
on a ball game

now and then.

Is that a crime?

Actually, it is.

Not if I place
the bet overseas.

Five grand?

You must have a lot
of frequent flier miles, doc.

I call an 800 number.

I log on to the Internet.

Either way, the bet
is actually placed

in Costa Rica, where betting
is perfectly legal.

Until money changes
hands here.

Okay, so they haven't

worked out all the kinks yet

but everybody does it,
nobody gets hurt.

Wrong again, doc.

Gordon Meeks is dead.

W-what?

So you go up or down five grand

you get a visit
from Gordon?

Or Stevie.

Monday's the day
we balance the books.

Stevie?

Strelzik.

He's Gordon's partner...
boss, actually.

You know where
we can find Mr. Strelzik?

You're sure it was Gordon?

He looked like his photo ID.

Drove a Lexus.

In the trunk of his car?

You'd like it better if they
dumped him in an alley?

What my partner meant to say
was in your line of work

you might expect a little
violence now and then.

Are you kidding?

Our clientele is a who's who
of New York money.

Besides, we don't let
anyone bet more

than they can afford to lose.

Aw, the bookie with a heart.

We run a legitimate
business, Detective.

That's for a later discussion.

For now, can you just tell us

how long Gordon worked for you?

Where would you get that idea?

He didn't work for me.

We're both employees of First
Run Gaming, Incorporated.

Let me guess--
incorporated in Costa Rica.

You know I-I warned him.

Low profile.

But he had to show off
with the fancy suits

the hundred dollar tips.

Did Gordon go see any
of his clients last night?

Yeah.

Sprewell looked great
in shoot-arounds

so I call maybe
a minute before tip off.

The line's Knicks
minus eight and a half.

So what the hell,
I put a nickel to win.

Yeah, but they
only won by eight.

Tell me about it.

That toll free phone call
cost me five hundred bucks.

Hey, what time
did Gordon come by?

Around 5:00.

My secretary called me out
of a deposition.

And your partners
don't mind any of this?

Hey, we're lawyers, not monks.

My husband's on Wall Street
18 hours a day.

So it's either find a lover or
put a couple of bucks on a game.

Well, I guess doing
the latter's a lot safer.

If I got caught
doing the former

I couldn't afford
to do the latter.

And your husband
don't mind?

Hey, with the way
Wall Street's going

I'm doing better than he is.

And at least I can trust
the people I invest with.

Hey, when Gordon
Meeks came by

did he come by
to deliver or collect?

You want to hear stupid?

I never in my life
bet the Knicks.

Bad karma, you know,
betting the home team.

But Sunday night,
I'm surfing the web

and I see that Allan Houston's
over his cold.

I get in
under the gun, right?

Thirty seconds
before game time,

I log on and take the Knicks
minus the eight for two dimes.

Hey, a push beats
the hell out of loss.

Sure, but if Spree
hit the damn free throw

I would have won.

And Gordon wouldn't have had a reason to
come callin'.

I don't mind losing.

It's waiting on line at the ATMs
to get the cash that kills me.

Yeah...especially when

they hit back, Susan.

Oh, this?

Kickboxing class.

That's some shiner.

I forgot to duck.

Mmm. And what time
did Gordon come back?

Around 6:00.

After my manicure.

I'm just saying it's odd.

The lady and the lawyer
both placed bets

on the Knicks
just before tip off.

He lost, she pushed.

People have patterns.

They're creatures of habit.

The book knows you like
the Jets, so when you call in

he bumps the line
a half a point.

Excuse me. How do you
score a half a point?

You don't. It just means
that there can't be a push.

A push?

A tie.

And intelligent people

throw away their money
like this?

A dollar earned gambling

is better than two earned
working.

That's the American way.

To the tune of several billion
dollars a year.

Yes.

Okay. Thanks.

Although I'd love to continue
discussing this

you guys are wanted uptown.

A neighbor called
the precinct

and let us know someone
cut down the yellow tape

you guys put up
on Meeks's door.

We found the perpetrator
in the apartment.

How'd he get in?

She had a key.

His wife?

It's hard to say. You'll see.

For you, Betsy.

Oh, this is wonderful.

What are these bums
going to do--

slap me upside the head
till I break?

This is Betsy. Sweet young
thing, don't you think?

Betsy, we're detectives...

Go ahead.

Sweat it out of me.

You can give me
the 12th degree...

Listen, listen.

We're investigating
the murder of Gordon Meeks.

Murder?

As in dead?

Yeah. We found him Monday night.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

How could I think
a bum like him

would ever put
a ring on my finger?

"Pre-engaged."
What the hell is that?

Don't ask me.

All I know is
post-married.

Did you and Gordon
live together?

Uh-uh. He said,
"Wait, babycakes,

till we formalize it."

What a crock.

He said I'd have
a ring by Christmas.

Okay, so that makes

the $64,000 question,

"What were you
doing in there?"

I called the bum
last night.

He didn't answer.

I called him again this morning.

I figured he's dunking
his donut, you know?

And the police tape
across the door

didn't give you a hint

that something
might be wrong?

You don't know some of the bull

he's tried to feed me.

Hey, can you think of anybody

that would want
to hurt him?

Try every bimbo
in Bensonhurst.

I answered his phone
a couple of days ago

and it's some babe
all fancy-shmancy

like she's puttin' on the Ritz.

She just has to talk to Gordon

like it's a matter of life
or death or somethin'.

When I say he's not here,
she goes nutso screaming at me.

Do you know this girl's name?

Yeah. Yeah.

Susan.

Black-eyed Susan?

Maybe Gordon
forgot to duck, too.

You've got to see it from our
point of view, Mrs. Ashman.

You make an hysterical
phone call to your bookie.

You end up with a black eye
and he ends up dead.

I didn't kill Gordon.

BRISCOE
Fine.

So, where was it you took
this kick boxing class?

Okay.

This was George, my husband.

But he isn't like that usually.

Oh, God.
Please don't say

"I wouldn't listen."

I wouldn't. About
the gambling anyway.

How much were you really
into Meeks for?

Around 25.

Thousand?

Damn Knicks.

$25,000? Susan spends
more than that on shoes.

Well, at least then she has something to
show for it.

What do you think I do
on Wall Street? I gamble.

It's the same thing.

Wouldn't I be hypocritical
to tell Susan

she couldn't wager
a few dollars?

Sure, if she won.

I know if my wife threw away
my hard-earned cash...

I don't hit women.

Let's go find her.
Come on, Ed.

No, no, hold on a second.

Why would I
kill anyone

over $25,000?

I don't know.
I also don't know why

you'd give Gordon Meeks a call.

We checked the records
on your cell phone.

Okay.

I'll tell you the truth.

Finally.

Susan swore she would stop.

Maybe it is a disease.

She wouldn't tell me
how much she lost.

I mean, the son of a bitch
was sleeping with her.

Turning her into
a whore for the money.

So you killed him.

If I ever found him,
maybe I would have.

Susan wouldn't even
give me his name.

Remember, Mr. Ashman,
we know that you called him.

I had my lawyers check

into this company in Costa Rica.

They gave me his phone number.

Meeks just laughed at me.

Finally, he agreed to meet me
Monday night

after his meeting
with his accountant.

But people like this
have accountants?

He never showed up.

As far as I knew they were
"entertainment consultants."

It was not tax time.

Why were they here
Monday night?

Look, it's a cash business.

In cash business, sometimes

profits have a way
of getting misplaced.

In other words, somebody ripped them off.

Gordon thought it was Stevie.

Now, how much are we talking about?

Almost 600 grand.

They were really
going at it.

Gordon wanted me
to go over the books

and find proof
that Stevie was stealing.

Was he?

Put it this way:
They were short.

Did Mr. Meeks
and Mr. Strelzik

leave together?

They went
for steaks at Paul's

around the corner.

I thought it was
to kiss and make up.

Mr. Strelzik
is the New York medium;

Mr. Meeks,
the T-Bone rare.

And the creamed spinach?

What do you think?

Sounds like
they're regulars.

The chef comes out
to greet them.

This is their
regular table.

So, Monday night...

The usual.

Maybe a bit more
to drink than normal.

Both of them?

Mr. Strelzik, mostly.

Lennie... this look familiar?

You mind if we borrow this?

We sell them;
six for $55.

Go. It's yours.

Problem number one: These
knives are hardly unique.

I checked with a
restaurant supply house.

Half the steak houses
in the city use these.

Problem number two?
So quick?

Beck...

Well... this one-- wiped clean.

Not a print to be found.

We're running fibers found here

but I wouldn't
hold my breath.

What about these?

The prints were too
smudged to read.

Nada, fellas.

Yeah, but these are
reading glasses.

There you go. The
librarian did it.

Gordon Meeks was 25.

He didn't need reading glasses.

But Stevie Strelzik,
on the other hand...

Meeks realized Strelzik
was ripping him off.

Strelzik made sure
he didn't tell the big boys

back at the home office.

And we've got
a murder weapon.

Without prints.

Yeah, but those were
Strelzik's glasses

next to the dead body.

Uh-huh.
In Meeks's car.

They were partners.

Maybe they went
to the company picnic together.

Sounds like you don't think
we have enough for an arrest.

Yes.

No, no, I'll tell them.

That was Beck.

Fibers from the blade
matched the tablecloths

at Paul's Steak House.

Hi, sweetheart.

Is your Dad in?

Daddy.

Mm-hmm.

We'd like to talk to you, Mr.
Strelzik.

We were eating dinner.

It can't wait.

You might want to
do this in private.

Honey, go back
to Mommy.

Sweet kid.

Too bad you're going
to miss her wedding.

Steven Strelzik,
you are under arrest

for the murder
of Gordon Meeks.

Steven? You have the right to remain
silent.

Anything thing you say
can be used against you

in a court of law.

You have the right
to an attorney.

Docket Number 57893.

The People
v. Steven H. Strelzik.

Murder One.

Great. Get the day
started off with a bang.

How do you plead?

Your honor, the defense objects
to your cavalier attitude

and demands an apology.

Who is this?

Furthermore, in light
of the lack of...

Is this going to take long, Mr....?

Dworkin. Randolph J.,
Your Honor.

And yes,
I do have...

You win, Mr. Dworkin.
I apologize.

Thank you, Your Honor.
Now...

Don't push it.

How does your client plead?

Not guilty, Your Honor.

Counselor?

Due to the heinous nature
of the crime

the People request the defendant

be remanded without bail,
Your Honor.

Your Honor, I object.

What murder isn't heinous?

Good point.

No bail.

Next.

Mr. McCoy. Dworkin, Randolph J.

I'm honored to cross swords
with a legend.

I was just telling my client
here-- oh, I'm sorry.

Steven Strelzik, Jack McCoy;

you've already had the
pleasure, Ms. Southerlyn.

So I was just telling Steven all about the
Gelfant case.

You really knocked it out
of the park in that one.

Front-page Law Journal.

My hat's off.

Sit. Sit.

Make yourself to home.

I assume you asked us here
to talk about a deal.

What did I tell you? Better
than him, they don't come.

So, I was thinking we could
brush this all under the carpet

with say, uh, Assault Two.
Suspended sentence.

Your client's been indicted
for Murder One.

Hey, we all
make mistakes.

Maybe you don't understand,

I'll put an offer
on the table for Murder Two.

It'll stay there until I leave this room,
which will be

in about 60 seconds.

That's fine.

That's fine, but, uh

there is one thing
you should know.

Mr. Strelzik here is one
of those fussbudgets

you know, the type who writes
everything down: names, dates

dollars and cents.

The police have already
confiscated his records.

Of course they have.

But, you see, it turns out, uh,
Mr. Strelzik has maintained...

What should we call it?

Um, a separate set of
records for his more

esoteric clientele.

Are you trying to blackmail us?

God forbid I should do
such a thing.

No. No, no, no, no.

This is just a bit of the old...
give and take.

Good-bye, Mr. Dworkin.

What is a Randy Dworkin?

I checked him out in Martindale.
Harvard Harvard.

Clerked for Judge Tattleman
in the Southern District

then worked for six years
for Pettijohn Burser

turned down partnership
to go out on his own

and since then he's had
a really good track record.

What?
Beating speeding tickets?

Federal Court actually. My
point is

is that Mr. Strelzik's
little black book

might embarrass a lot
of influential people.

Did he kill Gordon Meeks?

We think he did.

Does anyone in this room
have his or her name

in that little book of his?

Of course not.

Then convict the S.O.B.

.

I'll be prosecuting
this case.

I have to ask you
certain questions

to determine
whether there are any

conflicts that would prevent you from
judging the facts in this case

fairly and honestly.

I understand.

First, are you acquainted

with the defendant
Steven Strelzik?

No.

His attorney,
Mr. Dworkin?

No.

The defendant in this case
is accused

of first-degree murder

the penalty for which
can be either

25 years to life in prison
or the death penalty.

Would your conscience
prevent you

from applying either one
of those sentences?

"An eye for an eye,"
that's what I always say.

Thank you, Mrs. Ruben.

It's a lovely day today,
isn't it, Mrs. Ruben?

It's a little warm in here
for my taste.

We'll see if we can get
the air turned up a bissel.

That would be nice.

She's fine with me.

You consider yourself
a gambler, Mr. Nathan?

I put a couple of dollars in the Super
Bowl pool at the office.

That's it?

I was in Las Vegas once.

I won a couple of dollars
on the slots.

Do you know
any chronic gamblers?

My brother.

His wife left him
because he played

the ponies a little more
than she liked.

Is there any reason
you couldn't give out

the maximum sentence
in this case?

Not at all.

Thank you, Mr. Nathan.

He's fine.

That's a nice tie, Mr. Nathan.
Where'd you get it?

Barney's.

Cost you and arm
and a leg, I'll bet.

Maybe just an arm.

I love this guy.

You got to give
Dworkin credit.

At least he enjoys
his work.

There's a complaint box
outside Branch's office, Serena.

That's not
what I meant.

If you're paid
in cash

you're just not that
afraid to lose.

Although, I would
have rejected

two-thirds
of his witnesses.

The facts are against you,
argue the law.

Law's against you,
charm the jury.

Gee, was that charm?

I thought
it was just buffoonery.

Buffoons don't clerk

for federal judges.

The People of the State of New
York

against Steven Strelzik.

I object, Your Honor.

We haven't even started yet.

The People of New York?

I'd say that's a bit
prejudicial.

It certainly doesn't mean

all the people
of this great state

are against my client
from the get-go.

I know I'm not
against him.

And you, Your Honor,
you're certainly open-minded

on the matter.

And we can't forget the jury

because if they're predisposed
against my client...

Quite cute, Counselor.

Try it again
and we're talking contempt.

Much thanks, Your Honor.

I did their books

for three years.

And filed
their tax returns.

That's right.

I encouraged them
to report all income.

I'm sure you did.

Now if I could turn
your attention

to the night Mr. Meeks
was killed.

What, if anything,
do you recall about that night?

Well, they were arguing.

Gordon... I mean, Mr. Meeks
was accusing Mr. Strelzik

of stealing some
of the profits.

Was he?

Yes.

But you didn't tell that
to the police.

Mr. Strelzik
was still my client.

I had to consider
my professional obligations.

And now?

Well, he did kill someone.

Do I hear an objection,
Mr. Dworkin?

Why ruin the flow?

Things must have been tense
in your office that night.

They were loud.

I suggested they go have
a drink at Paul's Steakhouse

around the corner
and talk it out between them.

Thank you, Mr. Riley.

You're a Certified Public
Accountant, Mr. Riley

is that right?

Yes.

Am I allowed to deduct
Knicks tickets

if I force myself to take
a client every now and then?

relevance.

Do you know what
these guys charge?

Your Honor?

I know, I know.

My first appellate case

Judge Kornbeck asked me
to define "strict scrutiny"

as it pertains to substantive due process.

With all due respect

any first year law student
could do that.

Perhaps, but there I was
confronted with the majesty

of the Court of Appeals.

Nine gods in black robes
looking down at me.

I froze.

Then he repeated the question.

"Counselor, what do you mean
by strict scrutiny?"

So finally I looked him
straight in the eye

I said, "Well, Your Honor

it's like regular scrutiny
with a girdle."

Too bad Judge Kornbeck was born
without a sense of humor.

On the contrary.

He busted up.

And so did his eight brethren.

And you know what?

I won that case.

Opposing counsel had a hundred years of
precedent

but I made
the judge laugh.

And we have 12
ordinary citizens.

And if they like this guy
more than they like you,

there's a good chance
we could be sucking wind.

Exactly what is it you do, Mr.
Strelzik?

I consult in the
gaming industry.

Let's talk turkey,
shall we?

You're a bookie.
Is that correct?

Please speak up,
Mr. Strelzik?

Adele's got to take
this all down.

Yes, I'm a bookie.

Just to get our terms straight.

You take wagers
on ball games from the public?

That's right.

Now, if someone loses,

say, a lot of money

what, you let 'em slide
for a couple weeks

until they win the lotto
or Uncle Morty kicks the bucket

leaving him a pot of gelt?

That wouldn't be good
for business.

No, I suppose not.

So what would you do

to goose
this unfortunate fellow?

Gordon... Mr. Meeks was more
the muscle end of the business.

Just like the movies, huh?

Objection.

Yes, I suppose
I'd object

to a couple
broken kneecaps myself.

Enough, Counselor.

Mr. Strelzik, you were in
the courtroom earlier this week

when your accountant Mr. Riley
testified, weren't you?

Yes.

He accused you

of stealing money.
You heard that, did you?

Yes.

Dirty liar, isn't he?

Objection.
Withdrawn.

To your knowledge,
was Mr. Riley correct

in his assessment
of your business situation?

Yes.

Whoa.

Did I just hear you testify
under oath

that you were stealing money

from the people
you were working with?

Yes.

In most businesses,
that's a no-no, Mr. Strelzik.

You had to expect Mr. Meeks

to be just a tad
upset with you.

I really didn't care.

I needed the money.

And what was so important,
Mr. Strelzik?

What on Earth could justify

in your mind stealing your company's
hard-earned gambling profits?

I was sending the money
to Israel

to help stop
the senseless murder

of innocent Jews.

Chambers, Your Honor.

He sandbagged us,
Your Honor.

What, I'm supposed to show you my hand
before you call my bet?

Let me remind you, Counselor,
this is not a game.

Damn right it's not.

My client has devoted
his adult life

to fighting a disease bigger than AIDS,
bigger than polio.

Beating the gaming laws?

No, anti-Semitism.

They gave Salk
a Nobel Prize.

You want to give my client
a life sentence.

He killed an innocent man.

He was going
to stop him

from doing what he knew in his heart was
necessary.

There was better ways
than murder, sir.

Yeah? Name one.

Oh, and before
you tell me

violence doesn't solve anything

think about the Afghani women
who are now permitted

to show their faces in public
because of violence.

Think about the black man
in America

who had his chains unlocked

because of,
you guessed it, violence.

And while we're still
on the subject

let's not forget
my great-aunt Sophie

who spent six glorious years
in that garden spot

known as Auschwitz
until American violence

said, "Soph,
you can go home now."

Counsel is asserting
justification, Your Honor.

That's an affirmative defense
which requires notice.

I'm not asserting anything.

I asked my client a question,
he answered it.

I didn't hear me

use the word "justification,"
did you? Did you?

I didn't, Mr. Dworkin.

You're actually going
to allow this?

Would you have prepared
your case any differently?

That's beside the point.

Answer my question.

The statute says it's
irrelevant.

I'll take that as a no

which means
you haven't been prejudiced.

The People's objection
is overruled.

Your Honor, in effect,

the defendant is changing
his plea

to guilty with a reason
at this stage of the trial!

I heard him say

he stole the money.

I didn't hear him say
he killed anyone, did you?

No, I didn't.

If the court will allow us
some time

to review our strategy?

What's the difference

since we're making up the law
as we go along anyway?

You have two choices here,
Mr. McCoy:

You can apologize
or you can be sanctioned.

He apologizes,
Your Honor.

Well, I managed
to talk him out

of fining you
a thousand dollars.

I have a feeling
you're going

to be doing
a lot of that

throughout this trial.

Damn it, Jack,
it doesn't matter

how good our case is
when you antagonize the judge.

We have other
problems, Serena:

Ruben, Nathan, Schwartz,
Finkel, Cohen.

Don't go there.

We've got at least eight

and maybe ten Jews
on the jury.

If your point
is anything other

than we should have
paid more attention

during jury selection,
I don't want to hear it.

The fact is

millions of Arabs despise Jews

to the point of seeking
their annihilation.

this is completely irrelevant.

This man is on trial for his life.

I think he's entitled
to speak his mind.

You were saying, Mr. Strelzik?

The notion
that the hatred will stop

if and when Israel gives up
occupation of the West Bank

is an out-and-out lie;

propaganda to justify
their mass murder

to the rest of the world.

The fact is, the Arab community
wanted Israel destroyed

long before Jews ever set foot
in the West Bank.

And what about the money
you sent to Israel?

It buys wheelchairs
and blood banks

and other supplies.

Your Honor, the body was found
in the trunk of a car

in downtown Manhattan.

This is all absolutely...

Sit down, Mr. McCoy.

Did your money buy weapons,
Mr. Strelzik?

You can ask that at cross,
Counselor. Now sit.

But why you, Mr. Strelzik?

It not me, who?

Certainly not him.

You?

Did you steal money
from Gordon Meeks?

He bought $3,000 suits,
$500 shoes.

Yes or no, please.

It was from our company,
to be precise.

But Mr. Meeks discovered
you were taking it.

Yes.

And he threatened

to tell your bosses in Costa Rica. Yes.

And if the people
in Costa Rica knew

you were stealing,
I suppose they'd be upset.

They're in a business
to make money.

So the truth is
what you did

was not for Israel,
but for self-preservation.

You didn't want
your legs broken.

First Run Gaming is

a publicly traded company.
They might have sued.

They might have pressed charges.

I doubt they would
have wanted the bad PR.

In any case, they certainly wouldn't break
my legs.

Did you kill Gordon Meeks?

No.

No further questions.

It's obvious he lied
about killing Meeks.

Yes, it was.

It's also obvious Dworkin opened the door
wide enough

for this particular jury
to squeeze through.

You have only yourself
to kick for that.

You had the opportunity
to prevent this at voir dire.

Even if we'd noticed
what he was up to

disqualifying a juror
based solely on religion

is a big, fat,
constitutional no-no.

This is not about religion,
it's about politics.

No, it's about premeditated murder.

Strelzik took the knife
from the restaurant.

He knew what he was
going to do

before he did it.

Only the Honorable Judge Miller
is hell bent

on obfuscating that fact.

There's not a chance
on cutting a deal

with this Dworkin fellow?

Not on his terms, no.

We just need
to keep

the jury focused.

They're human,
Serena.

They come with built-in
predispositions.

Predispositions
this judge appears to share.

And opposing counsel
knew what they were

long before you did.

Which leaves you sitting
in that courtroom

looking like a long-tail cat

in a room
full of rocking chairs.

Let me ask you something.

If we were trying a Mafia don who'd
happened to give

millions of dollars
to the Church

in front of an all Catholic jury

would you think the same thing?

It's not the same thing.
I can't wait

to hear you explain that one.

Serena...

I'm not anti-Semitic.

Then why are we even
discussing this?

You tell me.
The fact is

we don't have the ideal jury.

Maybe we can't do anything
about that.

But where is it written we can't
do anything about the judge?

I'd better not have heard you
correctly, Mr. McCoy.

It's a perfectly reasonable
request, Your Honor.

Reasonable? You want me
to recuse myself

because I happen
to be Jewish.

With all due respect,
it appears

you are bending over backwards
for this particular defendant.

You've got a set on you,
you know that?

It's that Irish thing,
Your Honor.

That's offensive.

Oh, and this is
cherries and ice cream?

Stereotypes swing both ways,
Ms. Southerlyn.

You don't like how
I run my courtroom

keep putting your objections
on the record.

You know that
we can't do that, sir.

To have those
sitting in judgment

who hate you
for no logical reason.

Gee, I wonder
what that feels like.

I think we're done here.

Steven and I have been
married for 16 years.

And you have no problem
with what he does for a living?

Would I prefer he
were a doctor? Yes.

But these days, what with
HMOs and insurance premiums

you might not have $600,000

in cold cash
laying around the apartment.

Uh, let me ask you, Ms. Strelzik

did your husband
buy you... big diamonds?

No.

Fancy cars?

We don't have a car.

Then, uh, how do you get your daughter to
her private school?

Rachel's in public school.

Maybe if your husband wasn't so
carefree with his money,

you might be able to enjoy

more of life's simple pleasures.

Last year, we took Rachel

to Jerusalem for
her bat mitzvah.

I know... I know, I read about
the violence in the papers

but once you see
it yourself...

Objection.

Overruled.

Continue, Mrs. Strelzik.

It's like... Oklahoma City every
day.

Bombs going off.

People losing arms, legs.

Children dying...

just because
they walk down the street

for a piece of candy.

Can you imagine
that happening here?

If every day was
September 11th?

People would be
marching on Washington

to destroy everything
remotely Arab.

But what does
our president do?

He warns Israel
to show restraint.

I sympathize, Mrs. Strelzik.

But the fact is,
this case is about one death

here in New York City

and not about a conflict between
Palestinians and Israelis.

You see, even you

you've been brainwashed.

The fact is, there is
no such thing as a Palestinian.

Before Israel took
the land in the '67 war

Gaza was owned by Egypt

and there were
no Palestinians then.

Mrs. Strelzik... The West Bank was owned
by Jordan

and there were no
Palestinians then.

Tell me, where does
this heartfelt bond

with their long lost land
come from?

These people hate Jews
because they're Jews.

They want to destroy
Israel, period.

And believe me, America's next.

Are you done?

Did you know Gordon Meeks?

Of course.

You socialized with him

on more than one occasion?

Yes.

And you think he deserved
to be stabbed in the back

and shoved into the trunk
of a car?

Do I feel badly for him? Yes.

Will I lose sleep over it?
Not a wink.

Because he was
the muscle end

of an illegal gambling operation
who was killed

in pursuit of a greater good? That's
right.

What if he were a heart
surgeon, Mrs. Strelzik?

What if it were a Nobel Laureate
who got in your husband's way?

The fact is, he wasn't,
Mr. McCoy.

What if he were Jewish?

So do you really think it would have made
a difference to the jury

if Meeks was Jewish?

I really don't know.
Then why'd you ask?

I was dancing
as fast as I could.

Here's a hypothetical
for you, okay?

A group of Jews is taken over
by some bad guys.

They're given the option:

give over one of your group
to be killed

or all of you
will get slaughtered.

What do they do?

They unlock the jail cell

and sacrifice
the vilest criminal they have.

The Talmud says

they should all allow
themselves to be killed

rather than to give over
even one Jewish soul.

Since when did you become
a Talmudic scholar?

That's beside the point. Which is?

Dworkin has turned this

into an us-against-them.

Let's just deal it down.

Well, you certainly did
a 180 on this.

I watched the jury when Mrs. Strelzik was
on the stand.

Look, I agree with you, Jack.

Strelzik should
rot in his cell

for as long as the
State will have him.

But now you think
we're going to lose.

You know, my only predisposition

is that a killer deserves
to be punished.

Dworkin wanted assault one.

Let's just play
the old give-and-take.

If we put man two on the table

he will grab it
and run as fast as he can.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, that cab thing was a
whole situation.

It's not a problem

Mr. Dworkin. So, why the chitchat?

I'm willing to go down
to man two.

Now, don't think I'm not
an appreciative sort

but I'm going to have
to say no on this one.

As it turns out, there
are considerations

beyond innocence and guilt.

Like a stacked jury?

Yeah, that's right.

Those people,
they all stick together.

It's kind of like back
in the day, when Billy Bob

was on trial
for lynching po' Willie

for looking at Betty Lou
the wrong way

and the jury hearing the case
was Goober and Gomer and Beau.

It is hardly
the same thing.

Why, because we're
the "chosen people"?

Well, if that's the case

I wish y'all'd choose
someone else for a change.

I'd like to think we've
taken a few steps forward

since "the day," Mr. Dworkin.

Why, because there's no one goose-stepping
down the strasse?

At least the Nazis hid their
sadism from their own people.

The Arab anti-Semites
who kill Jews are deified.

Their pictures hang
in the public squares.

Their families are
compensated financially.

But hey, everyone's got
to earn a living, no?

Lets, for the moment

assume he did it.

Steven Strelzik
killed Gordon Meeks.

Why?

Because he was scared.

He was scared

because on the news he saw
people dancing in the streets

after a suicide bomber
killed elderly women

in a social club in Jerusalem.

He was scared
because governments

around the globe turn their backs on this
killing

to pursue oil and other
commercial interests.

And he was really scared
because his own country,

the land of the free
and the home of the brave,

a country which itself was
the recent victim of terror,

does not regard men who strap
themselves with explosives

and walk into a pizzeria
filled with Jews

as terrorists
worthy of fighting.

Somebody had to do something.

Steven Strelzik

did what he thought
was necessary.

Mr. Dworkin's a first-rate
attorney.

Hell, he's a magician.

He put the facts into a box,
sawed the box in half,

and out popped
thousands of years

of the most despicable hatred
known to man.

Like any good magician

he kept you busy
with what he was saying,

hoping you wouldn't notice what
he was doing with his hands,

hoping you wouldn't catch him
trying to hide a corpse...

trying to make
a murdered man disappear.

I'm betting
you saw through the trick.

So the only question is,
will you pretend it worked

or will you make

this illusion disappear?

One bookie killed
another bookie.

That's it.

Period.

The defense hardly bothers
to say otherwise.

Mr. Dworkin just now

all but said his client
killed Mr. Meeks.

Not once did he claim

Mr. Strelzik was innocent.

Like I say,

he's a good attorney.

He knows
no one would believe him.

Instead, he had
the deeply offensive idea

to use your sympathy for Israel

to put a killer
back on the street.

Mr. Dworkin

wants you to choose culture
over citizenship,

visceral hatred

over codified laws.

He's counting on at least one
of you saying to himself,

"I'm a Jew first, and only
after that, an American."

I asked you back when
you were selected for this job

whether you could look
at the facts presented

without passion or prejudice,

and each one of you
swore under oath that you could.

I know it's hard...

but if you don't...

all of this...

is meaningless.

Have you reached a verdict?

We have, Your Honor.

On the only count of the
indictment,

murder in the first degree,
how do you find?

We find the defendant,
Steven H. Strelzik,

guilty as charged.

May I?

Help yourself.
Hell of a job.

You're top of the
legal food chain, Jack.

No question about it.

You're not upset?

Hey, giving money to Israel's
a good thing.

Everyone should do it.

Murder, on the other hand...

Here's to hoping
the Big Guy upstairs

has a little more
sympathy for Mr. Strelzik

than did the People
of the State of New York.

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