All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.S13E13.Absentia.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

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.

So, what do you think?

Excuse me.

Burritos? Greek?

There's that
Spanish place.

El Faro's?

The one on Carmine.

Oh, I'm not in the tapas
state of mind.

Hey, what about that Thai joint
we always go to?

This is the problm
with New York:

too much choice.

You know,
you should have...

Oh, my God,
what was that?

Hey!
Call 9-1-1.

Oh, my God, Robby...

Be careful!

Oh, my God!

Dina!

We need you to come down
and look at some pictures.

Okay, but like we said...

Hey, you never know.

Something might
jog your memory.

Did they I.D. the shooter?

Ah, too dark, it all
happened so fast,
et cetera.

Ah, he's about six feet,
dark hair, dark complexion.

Black, white,
Hispanic, what?

Italian, Greek,
Armenian, who knows?

What about the witness?

He must have
gotten a good look.

Glen Fordyce.

He's visiting from Chicago,
and that's about all I got.

He's still in shock.

What do we know
about the dead guy?

That's Josh Baker, 53.

He's the proprietor.

Oh, there's his daughter
right there.

We're very sorry
about your dad.

Thank you.

Listen, I'm sorry
to trouble you,

but we're going to need
a list of all the things

that were stolen
so we can check pawn shops,

fences, et cetera.

I can do that for you
in the morning.

He wouldn't have put up
a fight.

He always said,
"Just give it up.

It's not worth it."

So why?

Sometimes they worry
about witnesses.

What about the customer?

He's on his way
to surgery.

We're actually hoping
that he can I.D. the shooter.

Would you tell him
how sorry I am?

Yeah.

Two or three at
chest, point blank.

That's nine millimeter.
Any prints?

Not a lot.

It's closing time.

He must have just finished

wiping the counter down
back here.

Who knows? He left
a few pieces behind.

Maybe we'll get lucky.

Yeah, and if our witness
lives through his surgery,

we'll all hit the lottery.

Captioning sponsored by
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It's a business trip,
and I finished early,

so I figured I'd stop and pick
something up for my wife.

How's the owner?

Mr. Baker didn't make it.

See, that's what you get
for being a nice guy...

going out of your way.

What do you mean,
Mr. Fordyce?

Well, he was closing up,
and he... let me stay and browse

'cause he knew I was heading
to Chicago in the morning.

And then this punk...

They don't make morphine
like they used to.

Thanks.

Anyway, this kid
rings the buzzer,

and since
I was already there,

I guess he figured
what the hell,

he'd help out
two prodigal husbands.

Can you describe him?

Early twenties.

Uh, skinny.

Had curly, dark hair.

He had...
a dark complexion.

Black, white?

Not black.

Hard to tell.

Uh, Hispanic

Middle Eastern.

Gypsy, maybe.

He had some kind
of accent.

A foreign accent?

I'm all for your huddled masses

yearning to breathe free
and all,

but sometimes...

makes you wonder
who's watching the door.

Do you think you could pick
his face out of a book?

Whatever you need,
I'm here for you.

Good. Thank you.

Thanks.

Now, all we need
is a pawn broker

who's as accommodating
as Mr. Baker was.

Pawn broker? Let's start
in the Village, move north.

Oh, come on, man.

300 for this old, beat-up,
no-account guitar?

Hey, sorry,
no discounts.

You sure you don't
have something more...
exciting?

Exciting? Uh, like what?

Oh, something... special.

You know, private stock?

Yeah. Uh...

I just got these babies in.

Right off the boat,
if you know what I mean.

Estate sale.

What, somebody died?

Wow, now you're talking.

Look, you put
these earrings together,

I'll give you a price.

How about I take
the whole lot?

You buy in bulk and save.

Hell, I-I... I didn't know
the stuff was hot, I swear.

Yeah, I didn't know either.

Let's consult
with an expert.

Ed, want to take
a look at these?

Ah, crap, man, what are you
guys, Starsky and Hutch?

Ding-ding,
we got a match.

Looks like you're closed
for the day, pal.

Well, what's the pawnbroker
have to say for himself?

"I never saw him before."

Of course.

His log book?

Illegible.
Isn't it always?

And I'll bet he neglected
to ask for I.D.

Completely slipped
his mind,

but he did give us
the same description

as Fordyce-- dark, curly hair,
skinny, six foot, accent.

Hey, we got a hit

on a print from the store
off a bracelet he left behind.

Uh, Eddie Travandze.

28, six-foot,
dark hair, brown eyes.

BCI's sending over a photo.

And what's his
claim to fame?

Oh, B and E,
possession of burglary tools.

He did 18 months upstate.

Travandze?
What is that?

Ah, it says here
he's from Georgia.

So, his foreign accent
was Southern?

No. Georgia,
like in Russia.

You know, Soviet Union.

Is there a last known?

Yeah. 125 Delancy.

See ya.

When's the last time
you saw your husband?

Who knows? He left.

Doesn't live here no more.

Oh, yeah? Why are
all his clothes

still in the closet?

I told you. He left.

Girlfriend floozy.

I tell him to get the hell out

or else I do like Mrs. Bobbit--
snip, snip.

This floozy--
you know where we can find her?

No ideas.

Officer, would you mind
sitting here

with Ms. Travandze
for a while?

Disgusting.

Worse than KGB!

Pigs!

Get the hell out!

Don't you love
innocent bystanders?

Police!

I don't know nothing.

Actually, we'll be
the judge of that.

I'm out of work
as it is.

I don't need trouble.

We're here to prevent
trouble, Mr., uh...

Yeats. Timmy Yeats.

I don't need this.

I really don't.

We just got
a few questions
about Mr. Travandze.

Who did he kill?

Now, why would
you say that?

Them Georgians.

Worse than Ukes.

They're a crazy breed,
know what I'm saying?

Screaming all the time
like there's no tomorrow.

What, screaming
at each other?

Him at her.
Her at him.

Both of them at me.

You know
any of his friends?

Me? Nah.

All right, man,
so when we see Eddie,

we'll give him
your regards.

Okay. Okay.

There's this bar
in the East Village.

Eddie dragged me there
on a couple of occasions

for some cheap vodka.

Called Borka's... Borzoi's...
something... on St. Mark's.

Real dump.

When he's not beating the wife,

he's down there swapping lies
with the other Cossacks.

I know the place.

Eduard Travandze?

Never heard of him.

That was a rhetorical
question, smart ass.

Go away.

You're under arrest.

For what?

Armed robbery and murder.

Maybe he doesn't
understand English, Ed.

You got the wrong guy.

Stand up.

Go to hell.

Hey, any of you guys
want to join your friend,

there's plenty of room
at Rikers.

I guess
they understood that.

Yeah, Rikers is Rikers
in any language.

You probably
heard this before, too.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say
can and will be used against you

in a court of law.

Dasvidanya.

That's him.

Number four.

You're positive?

Yep, he's the one
who sold me the stuff.

Definitely.

Thank you, Mr. Krakow.

Can I go, uh,
home now?

Yeah. We're going to have
an officer escort you.

Uh, we have a, uh,
a bargain, right?

Now, that sounds interesting.

Look, I'm a stand-up guy.

I told you I'd come in

pick the guy out, so, uh...

And what did they
promise you?

A hot cup of coffee.

Officer?

If that's who you're
hanging your case on,

you're wasting
everyone's time.

If you don't have anything
better than a witness

with a lot to gain
by perjuring himself,

my work here is done.

Sorry I'm late.

It's easier to get
through customs

than check out
of a hospital.

I'm sorry, Mr. Finnerty.
It looks like you

might have to put in
a couple more hours

on behalf of your client.

Yeah. Your client used
Mr. Fordyce for target practice.

Detective Briscoe says
you have fingerprints

and another witness?

There's no such thing
as too much evidence.

Good. I wouldn't want
this mutt to get away.

Hey...
Save it for the
courtroom, Counselor.

Let's get this
over with.

Take your
time, now.

No need. Number four.

I'll never forget that face
as long as I live.

Docket number 274691.

People v. Eduard Travandze.

Charges are
murder in the first degree,

attempted murder
in the first degree,

robbery in the first degree.

That's a pretty good
trifecta, Mr. Travandze.

What have you got
to say for yourself?

You got the wrong guy.

I assume that's a not guilty.

Not at all guilty.

That's a first.
Counselor?

The defendant killed

one man and wounded another

during the course
of an armed robbery...

You had me at "killed,"
Ms. Southerlyn.

The defendant's remanded

without bail.

Next.

I figure murder two,
assault one, served
concurrently.

Feeling generous
this morning, are we?

His lawyer's
bringing coffee.

He's been like that
for 20 minutes.

Maybe Travandze likes
vodka for breakfast.

Do as I say, okay?!

I said no, okay?!

No plea bargain!

Don't mind us.

I'm sorry to waste your time,
but it seems my client

is hell-bent on having
his day in court.

You explained the consequences
of a guilty verdict?

Needle and all.

I go to prison one time.

I not go back. Never.

I don't think that's
an issue here, Mr. Travandze.

Your choice is between life in
prison or the death penalty.

Screw you! It wasn't me!

You were ID'ed by the pawnbroker
and the other customer you shot.

Mistaken identity.

I got jewels from guy in bar.

He sold to me.

I don't know where he get from.

Please don't insult
my intelligence

with a fairy tale like that.

Last time I do nothing wrong,

son of bitch lawyer says
take deal.

Not again.

I know rights.

Most people looking at
this kind of evidence

would take a deal and run.

I take chances in court instead.

I believe in jury system.

This guy was waiting
outside my store

when I came in that morning,

in a real hurry
to sell me some jewelry.

I see.

Did you buy it?

Yeah. Yeah, of course.

That's my business.

And the person
who sold you this jewelry,

do you see him in
the courtroom today?

Yeah, he's over there.

The defendant.

These items which have already
been labeled People's Two

through Eleven...

are they the pieces that you
bought from the defendant?

Yeah.

Yeah, that's them.

How much did you pay
for the lot?

$550 cash.

Thank you.

You knew that these pieces
were stolen?

Uh, I run my business
like the army--

don't ask, don't tell.

In fact, the District Attorney
indicted you

for receiving
stolen property.

in connection
with this case,
didn't he?

I, uh, have...

charges pending, yeah.

Did they promise

to drop those charges

if you testify
against my client?

No, they didn't.

But you have hopes, don't you?

If you cooperate...

Objection.

Withdrawn.

Dad-- I mean my father--
kept careful records

of every piece of inventory
in the store for insurance.

Are any of the items labeled
People's Two through Eleven

listed in that ledger?

Uh, all of them.

The pearl necklace,

the, uh... gold bracelet...

Do you know what
all this is worth?

That bastard killed my father
for maybe $5,000.

I'm very sorry for your loss,
Ms. Baker.

Thank you.

You said Exhibits Two
through Eleven were worth

collectively about $5,000,

is that correct?

About.

So it's not
what you'd call

top of the line
jewelry?

Isn't it highly unlikely

that your father is
the only jeweler in town

who would sell
these kind of pieces?

I know what
you're doing.

Ms. Baker?

Those pieces came from
my father's store.

Please, Ms. Baker,
answer the question.

No.

Other people sell
this kind of jewelry, too.

Thank you.

Next witness,
Mr. McCoy.

Approach, Your Honor.

The People request
a recess, Your Honor.

What seems
to be

the problem, Mr. McCoy?

Our final witness,

Mr. Glen Fordyce,
is coming in from Chicago.

His plane must
have been delayed.

Is he essential to your case?

Crucial, Your Honor.

Victim and eyewitness.

My client is entitled
to a speedy trial.

Relax, Mr. Finnerty.

I'll see everybody
bright-eyed

and bushy-tailed
tomorrow morning.

Yes, Your Honor.

Jack.

Fordyce never
got on the plane.

Well, get him
on the red-eye.

We need him here
tomorrow morning.

I can't. he's gone.

What do you mean gone?

Her called his office,

said he needed to take
some time off.

That he and his wife

were going
on a car trip.

A car trip? Unbelievable.

Well, they got
to eat, sleep.

Run their
credit cards.

I did. So far they
haven't used them.

There's something else.

Travandz's uncle's doing
life in Otisville.

The Russian mob.

What do you mean,
disappeared?

Ask defense counsel.

Are you implying I had
something to do with this?

I'm not implying anything.

I'm saying it outright.

You, your client, somebody
got to my witness.

No wonder Mr. Travandze
has such faith

in the jury system.

You have proof
of this, Counselor?

If something's
happened

to Mr. Fordyce,

if you had anything
to do with it,

you'll be looking at conspiracy
to commit murder charges,

in addition to
witness tampering.

You just better hope

that Mr. Fordyce is still
alive and well.

I need two weeks,
Your Honor.

So do I. In Vermont.

Do you have any more witnesses.

No, Your Honor.

Fine.

Then let's
see if we can
put an end

to this
proceeding ASAP.

This is ridiculous!

Your witness,
you job

to put him on the stand.

Go ahead, Mr. McCoy,
charge me with conspiracy, too.

Have you reached
a verdict?

We have.

On the first count
of the indictment,

murder in
the first degree,

how do
you find?

We find the defendant...
not guilty.

On the second count
of the indictment,

attempt to commit murder
in the first degree,

how do you find?

We find the defendant
not guilty.

On the third count
of the indictment,

robbery in
the first degree,

how do you find?

We find the defendant
not guilty.

You don't seriously suspect
the Russian mob?

A key witness doesn't
just conveniently

disappear, Arthur.

Especially one who has chance

to put the man who shot him
behind bars.

What'd you find out?

The Chicago Police
pulled Fordyce's LUDs

searched his apartment.

His clothes, his wife's
clothes-- all gone.

Maybe your boy just got
a bad case of stage fright.

I don't think so.

His prints in
his apartment

matched someone
named Levi March.

He has a record.

For killing
Abby Sherman.

You know
who he is?

Think that's possible
after all these years?

Why not?

Everybody's got to be somewhere.

What are we
talking about?

Glen Fordyce is
the Griffin.

Well, if he is the Griffin,
he sure as hell doesn't want

his kisser in a courtroom.

Why are you calling him
the Griffin?

That's what
he called himself.

The Griffin.

A mythical beast,
half dragon, half lion.

Levi March.

Gadfly, media maven

ladies man
extraordinaire.

Who skipped bail after murdering
his girlfriend 20 years ago.

was front-page news.

Every era has its gurus.

So this is all that we have.

He killed his girlfriend
Abby Sherman.

Beat her to death
with a blunt object.

Allegedly.

No, he did it.

The jury said so.

I thought
he skipped bail.

He did.

He was tried in absentia.

That doesn't
happen often,
does it?

Well, the Sherman family
had connections.

They knew a sympathetic judge

that they thought would
give them some closure.

Well, shouldn't you be turning
this over to Cold Cases?

Well, Branch figured
since he actually
met the man...

Always thinking of
others, your boss.

The original detective
on the case was Will Ashman.

He retired in '94.

Will Ashman?

Oh, you're going
to love this one.

March, supposed to be
a real lady-killer right?

What the broads saw

in the pudgy little
son of a bitch
I'll never know.

That's what makes
them broads, right, Lennie?

I'm with you, Will.

So did this girl
that March killed...

Nice kid.

Kind of your girl
next door.

Cuter than a bug's ear.

Lennie knows
the type.

I used to.

I don't know what
she was doing

with a creep
like March.

Finally, she gets fed up.

Tells him she's
dumping him,
blah, blah...

He flips.

Bashes her head in
with a champagne bottle,

bricks up her bod

behind the fireplace
in his apartment.

Place smells worse
than a Cambodian kitchen.

Finally, the landlord
calls the cops.

So why would a judge
let a man like that

out on bail?

It's hard
to say no

when you ask for
a cool mill up front,

and they write you out
a check on the spot.

I didn't know March
had that kind of money.

His old man.

Levi never worked
a day in his life.

That's the last we hear of him
until about ten years ago.

We get this anonymous tip
that he's shacked up

with some local talent
up in Montreal.

So... we strap on our snowshoes,

go up there, make nice
with the Mounties,

raid the place.

Missed the little nudnick
by a nose hair.

Will's what you'd call
old school.

You mean prehistoric?

Hello.

But entertaining in
a Neanderthal sort of way.

Hey, Fordyce has
a '91 Chevy Camaro.

A little extra horsepower
helps when you're on the run.

Yeah, spell it out.

All right, cool.

It was registered under
Mr. and Mrs. Fordyce,

but the wife's
driver's license

has the name
Anne-Marie Gautreaux.

And you're thinking she's the
local talent from Montreal?

Mm-hmm.

Montreal faxed us the
driver's license photos

of all 145 Anne-Marie
Gautreauxs in the province.

A Chicago neighbor picked
one as Mrs. Fordyce.

Well, that doesn't
necessarily mean

they've gone back to Canada.

On the other hand,

they left in a hurry
without any time to make plans.

They might have
looked up her family.

And all the cash
they had

was the couple hundred
they got from the ATM.

I know where my kid comes

when she's
running on empty.

Au revoir.

I take it you still haven't
located Monsieur March.

Well, until
a few days ago

they were living
in Chicago

under the name Fordyce.

And he disappeared?

We're thinking maybe
he paid a visit to
his in-laws.

That'd be difficult.

They were killed
six months ago

in an automobile accident.

Well, living under
an assumed identity

and not able
to get in touch,

there's a chance
Anne-Marie didn't
hear about her folks.

She have any
other family?

Sister.

She was here
the day before yesterday.

Was she alone?

Yeah, all alone.

Did she say where
her husband is?

We don't talk about him.

He's not welcome
in this house.

You know where
she is now?

No!

No. I swear.

Did she say where
she was going?

When she left,

she was very upset.

About what?

Our parents.

She didn't know.

I had no way to reach her.

She was...

She still in Montreal?

I think so.

We... As far as I know.

If you should hear
from Anne-Marie,

if she gets
tired of running,

ask her to give us
a call.

We can call New York
and make a deal.

Uh, she won't
be prosecuted.

Mademoiselle Gautreaux?

Oui.

Gabrielle Simone,
Anne-Marie's attorney.

I might have known.

A lawyer's a lawyer
anywhere in the world.

And so's a cop.
Let's cut to the chase.

Since Anne-Marie
is totally innocent

of any crimes.

Let's not forget
harboring a fugitive.

Oh, I get it,
you're the straight man.

My sister
said that I

wouldn't be charged
with anything.

And you won't
if you tell us

where your
husband is.

I don't know if
I can do this.

He's not getting away

this time, Mrs. Fordyce.

It's a lot harder
to cross borders

than it used to be.

It would be
better for him

if you tell us
where he is.

Otherwise, some other
cops get to him...

You never know
what could happen.

He could wind up dead.

Anne-Marie
will tell you

where her
husband is

if you give
her immunity, plus

she won't testify
against him,

not under any
circumstances.

It's not a problem.

We want it
in writing

from the district attorney.

You can get that.

So when are you due?

Three months.

Is that why
you decided

to give it up after
all these years?

It's too hard.

I love Glen, but... I'm tired.

This is no way to live.

My sister got married.

I missed the wedding.

She's got two kids
I've never met.

My parents died...

and I didn't even know.

I missed their funeral.

I'm not a criminal.

I shouldn't have
to live like one.

How do you say

"We're screwed"
in French?

I guess that's how.

He's on the
fire escape.

Aw... I thought
griffins could fly.

You want
to do the honors?

Avec plaisir.

March is on a plane back
to New York as we speak.

They've already picked out
a room for him in Attica.

Wait a minute. Aren't
we skipping a step?

March was tried
and convicted, Serena.

I just assumed
there'd be a new trial.

Yup.

I thought this office
was serious

about due process, Jack.

And we are.

He was represented
by very able counsel.

Who is sitting in
the conference room

as we speak.

Two words-- kangaroo court.

Evidence
was presented.

Witnesses testified.

You represented him

if memory serves.

I was young. I was naive.

And now?

I'm old enough to realize
just how naive I was

for letting the state
proceed with that farce.

This is a municipal
building, Marvin.

Heil, McCoy.

So what do you say?

We call it... man two?

Time served?

What time?

20 years

Levi had to deny
his own existence.

He could have
turned himself in.

For something he didn't do.

Heil to you, too.

Murder two, 25.

He's 55 years old.

That's a life sentence.

And Abby Sherman

would be 45 if she'd lived

if Levi March hadn't killed her.

You know, I was hoping
you'd take this position.

Now I get to correct the mistake
I made 20 years ago.

What's done
cannot be undone, Marvin.

Oh, yes, it can.

That's what
appellate courts are for.

that in all criminal proceedings
the accused has the right,

guaranteed
by the Sixth Amendment,

to be, and I quote, "confronted
with the witnesses against him."

Similarly,
the Due Process Clause

of the 14th Amendment implicitly
guarantees a defendant the right

to a fair and impartial trial.

That's all very interesting,

but you're appealing a decision
rendered over 20 years ago.

The last I looked,
this state required

notice of appeal
within 60 days of a verdict.

With all due respect,
Your Honor,

cart before the horse.

If the original trial
was unconstitutional,

there was no verdict.

Always the clever one,
Mr. Silverman.

Thank you, Your Honors.

In Davis v. Alaska,
the Supreme Court held

that the essence
of the right of confrontation

was the right to cross-examine.

That right was certainly not
denied the defendant,

in that he was represented

more than competently
by present counsel.

Within limits.

He can't very well
advise counsel

on his own defense
when he's not in the courtroom.

Mr. March
waived his right

to advise counsel when he failed
to turn up for his trial.

Doesn't Crosby v.
United States preclude

trial in absentia
when the defendant flees

before proceedings commence?

Mr. March was in custody
under indictment at the time

he fled
the jurisdiction.

It was his choice
not to participate

in subsequent
legal proceedings.

Nobody at the time,

including counsel, objected.

The People should not be
penalized now, 20 years later.

How could you have lost?

He killed my sister.

We already proved it in court.

Appellate courts look at
the law, Mrs. Carmody,

not the people
it affects.

This has been
going on for 20 years.

It's ruined my family.

It killed my parents, literally.

We convicted him once.

I'm confident
we'll convict him again.

I hope so.

Good night.

Night.

You that sanguine?

'Course not.

A 20-year-old case?

Evidence goes astray,
witnesses die.

You wouldn't want it
to be too easy, would you?

Detective Ashman.

Remembers it
like it was yesterday.

Mr. and Mrs.
Sherman, both dead.

Thomas Styner?

A neighbor. He died last year.

Trish Tippens?

Abby Sherman's
best friend.

She moved to Europe
after the first trial.

You know, it's a shame, too,
because Mrs. Sherman

testified that Abby told her

that she was going to leave Levi
because she came home

and found him in bed
with her friend Trish.

There's a quote:
"I'm leaving him

although I'm afraid
he might kill me if I do."

There's your motive.

We'll read Mrs. Sherman's
testimony into evidence

and between that,
the detective's testimony

and forensics,
Levi March will go to prison

for the rest of his life.

I was just a kid

when Abby moved in with Levi.

What did your family
think of Mr. March?

He was okay.

He and my dad

would talk politics.

Levi was always on the news

so it was like we had
a celebrity in the family.

Was your sister
happy with Mr. March?

At first,

but then I started to notice

how he'd boss her around.

At a restaurant,
he would tell her what to order.

He made her wear
certain clothes.

Things like that.

He was a control freak.

Did she ever
complain?

It was a family tradition
to go skating

in Central park
every New Year's Day

until Abby met
Levi, that is.

That year,
Levi wouldn't let Abby go.

He didn't know how to skate,

so that was it--
Abby couldn't go.

So, after we were
done, we dropped by

their apartment.

Abby was alone.

She was crying.

Did she tell you why?

My dad took me for a walk
while Abby talked to Mom.

I found out afterwards--
he'd hit her.

A couple of months later,
she was dead.

Did you see Levi March
hit your sister?

No.

Did she ever
tell you

he'd hit her?

No.

Tell me, Mrs. Carmody,
was there ever a time

when you saw your mother cry?

Of course.

Did your father kill her?

Do you know

what that man did
to our family?

A crying
girlfriend.

A disagreement
about a family outing.

A hearsay story

about someone
hitting someone else.

Not exactly evidence
of murder, is it?

That bastard

killed Abby!

Your Honor.

We get your point,
Mr. Silverman.

At this time, Your Honor,

the People would like
to read into evidence

the testimony of
Mrs. Vera Sherman.

Chambers, Judge.

Hearsay, best evidence,
take your pick.

The witness is deceased,
Your Honor.

Who's your witness?

The victim's mother.

She testified at
the first trial

that Abby Sherman
had told her

that she was scared

the defendant
would kill her

if she tried to leave.

Sworn testimony
is admissible

if the witness is

unavailable for trial.

You're forgetting, Jack.

According to the Appellate
Division, that trial

was an unconstitutional
violation of my client's rights.

Ergo the verdict was void.

Ergo, the trial
never took place.

Ergo, Mrs. Sherman

never testified.

That is absurd.

Defense counsel's
welcome to read

his own cross-
examination

of the witness from
the first trial

into evidence if he likes.

What witness?

I don't see a witness.

I don't either.

As far as I'm concerned,
that transcript doesn't exist.

The neighbors complained

about a stink.

What did you do?

We searched the place.

It stunk, all right.

Could you describe the smell?

Sure.

Smelled like death
and peppermint.

Objection.

Is the witness an expert
in the olfactory sciences?

I'm an expert in dead
bodies and the people
who try to hide them.

I'll let it go.

Thank you, Judge.

It turns out,
the smell was

a combination of
air fresheners

and decomposing flesh.

And this odor
was emanating

from the
Defendant's
apartment?

His fireplace,
to be exact.

What did you do?

I waited there
while my partner got a warrant,

and we tore down the wall.

What did you find?

Human remains.

Are these
photographs

of those human remains?

Yes, yes,
they are.

Could you describe
the condition
of those remains?

Badly decomposed.

The body had been dismembered,

the skull crushed.

Were you
subsequently able

to identify
those remains?

Yes.

Yes, those of Abby Sherman.

Sure, Abby and I had problems.

I'm sure all couples do
from time to time.

Did you ever hit her?

Let-let me tell you something.

I believe-- I truly believe--

that each person on this planet
has only one true soul mate.

Abby and I were born
for each other.

No, I didn't hit her.

And I certainly didn't kill her.

When was the last
time you saw her?

March 12, 1982.

We made love
on the couch,

and I got on a plane
for Detroit.

Do you remember? There was
an autoworkers' strike.

I just flew out to lend support
for the working man.

How long were you out of town?

Maybe six weeks.

Did you talk to
Abby while you
were in Detroit?

No.

She was going the next day
to the Navajo reservation

where she was doing work
at the tribal hospital.

And you couldn't
reach her?

No. In those days,
there were no cell phones,

and she didn't have

an answering machine
where she was staying.

So, what happened
when you got home?

I called
her parents.

They hadn't heard
from her.

They didn't know
where she was, either.

Did the
apartment
smell?

I called the super.
I complained.

He said we had rats.
He put out poison.

I just assumed
that they crawled off

and died
in the walls.

A few days later,
Detective Ashman showed up.

He took the fireplace apart,
and he found her body.

And you were shocked?

Devastated.

I wanted to die.

Do you have any idea who
could have done such a thing?

Of course, I do.

That's why I ran.

I knew I couldn't get
a fair trial.

They were trying to frame me.

Why don't you tell us
who did it?

Who killed Abby Sherman?

Well, what
you have to know

is that at that time,

I was a very
high-profile person.

I spoke truths a lot of people
didn't want to hear.

Like what?

Like the marriage
of corporate America

and the American
government.

Like the conspiracy
of greed and power

that controls each
and every human being
on this planet.

I spoke the truth
back then.

People were starting to listen.

Are you saying

the American government
killed Abby Sherman?

Yes, that's exactly
what I'm saying.

But if you were
the problem,

if you were
such a threat,

why didn't they
just kill you?

They wanted to discredit me.

Shut me up.

Not make me a martyr.

Mr. McCoy?

I'm sorry,
Your Honor.

I just don't know what to say.

I've... heard some whoppers
on the stand,

but this beggars
the imagination.

Objection.

Do you have
any questions

for this witness, Counselor?

The government murdered
Abby Sherman?

Who was it?

The CIA?

The FBI?

Go ahead.

Just mock me, Mr. McCoy.

It is the truth.

You've got
to admit,

this is all pretty hard
to believe.

Why?
Why's it so hard

to believe?

They killed John, didn't they?

John Kennedy?

John Lennon.

So, Mark David
Chapman was working
for the government?

He spent time

in a CIA training camp in Beirut

where he was blooded.

Blooded?

Brainwashed.

Trained to be a skilled,
covert assassin.

Are you saying

the CIA assassinated
John Lennon?

He was
as dangerous

to them as I was.

It's so sad.

You-you're a part
of the conspiracy,

and you don't even know it.

You're a dupe, Mr. McCoy.

And you're not?

You know the truth?

That's right.
I do.

How, in this world
of uncertainty,

can you be so damn sure?

They told me.

Told you?
Who told you?

A retired black ops agent.

Black ops?

Illegal, covert
operations.

Wet works, assassinations.

The Phoenix Program

in Vietnam.

You remember--
"Terminate

with extreme prejudice."

You remember that one,
don't you, Mr. McCoy?

And what
did this

retired, secret, covert,

black ops assassin tell you?

He called me in Chicago
last year

and apologized for killing Abby.

I see.

And for the record,

what was this man's name?

He couldn't tell me.

Classified...

on pain of death.

Oh, please!

Objection.

Withdrawn.

There's a word
for people like March.

Let's hope it's "guilty."

Paranoid.
Wild theories

without a wisp of fact.

The '97 NBA
Conference
Finals.

The refs threw out
half the Knicks team.

So they'd lose
to Miami,

and Miami would lose
to the Bulls,

and Michael Jordan
would end up
in the Finals.

The payday everyone wanted.

You don't believe that, Arthur.

Me? No.

But the fella I get
my paper from every morning

is still yapping about it.

It only takes
one out of 12, Jack.

Don't I know it.

I just went over the LUDs pulled
from March's Chicago phone.

Please don't tell me
there was a call from Langley.

No, but there
were quite a
few to and from

a P. Tippens.

Tippens?

Trish Tippens.

Patricia, the one Abby Sherman
caught March in bed with.

I'll tell
you what.

It's March's girlfriends
who ought to be paranoid.

Actually, I
was thinking

more about his wife.

"Mrs. Sherman:

'She told me Levi was cheating
on her all the time.'

'Did she say with whom?'

'Well, the straw
that broke the camel's back

'was her friend, Trish,
Trish Tippens.

'Abby came home
and found Trish
and Levi in bed.'"

Judge already said
none of this can
be used in court.

We're not in court, Marvin.

I don't-I don't
understand.

Who cares about an affair
I had 20 years ago?

This is a list of phone calls
between your husband

and Patricia Tippens
over the past two years.

There are
hundreds
of them.

If you look closely,
you'll see that the
area code is 312.

Chicago, isn't it, where you've
been living the past two years?

They're all
local calls.

Do you really think they were
just staying in touch?

Bastard.

You are a pig.

Cochon.

Don't you see, sweetie?

They're setting us up.

I gave up my life
for you.

My family.
Ten years.

I trusted you.

You never even stopped
seeing her, did you?

Even while I'm pregnant,

you were still
screwing her.

They're lying, Anne-Marie.

We will talk

about it later.

That's right.

They're always lying.

Everyone else is always lying.

You're the only one
who tells the truth.

Do you know what he told me?

He told me that
he killed

that girl, Abby.

That he killed her,

and he put her body
in the fireplace.

Anne-Marie...

What are you saying?

I never told you that.

They're married.
It's privileged.

No, guess again.

We were never married.

Our marriage is a sham,

a lie...

just like him.

Give us a minute, Jack.

He took Murder Two,
the max.

25 to life?

I would have
rolled the dice
with the Jury.

You didn't have
a Felony Escape charge

hanging over your head,

with sentences
to run consecutively.

This way, he has at least

a theoretical
chance at parole.

Do you really think
he told Anne-Marie

he committed the murder?

I think she
proved his point.

This time, finally,

someone was out to get him.

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