All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.S13E19.Seer.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

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.

Good morning.

They say the rain's finally
over.

Oh, this is great.

What the hell
do you want from me?

Opening your eyes would be nice.

No answer, huh?

You didn't
ask me anything.

Always the smart ass.

Where are you going?

Away.

Looking for these?

Yeah, yeah,
go ahead.

I can't
believe this.

You think
I can hit the Dumpster?

Rob...

Cause of death,
a whack to the head.

Gee, how could you tell.

Time of death is hard to say.

She's kind of soaked
through and through

from the rain last night.

Not bad looking, though,
if you like that type.

What, the dead type?

Hey, I'm not sick.

I'm talking
about the stiletto heels.

My guess is she wasn't
going to mom's for breakfast.

Keep up the good work,
Brody.

Found this open,
tossed over there.

I guess he took
the money and ran, huh?

No I.D., just a lipstick,
rosy red if you're interested.

Oh, and an address book.

We can let our fingers
do the walking.

Sat in a puddle
all night long.

Also, one glove.

Well, didn't belong
to the victim.

She's got both of hers.

Detectives.

This could
belong to your guy.

It looks like oil.

Someone works on their
car and leaves a spill.

The bad guy steps in it.

It leads directly
to the body.

And back the way out.

Well, they say shoes
are like fingerprints.

Yeah, and I got some shoes
older than her.

Captioning sponsored by
UNIVERSAL NETWORK TELEVISION

You see how
the left heel is eroded?

Uh... here.

Now that's caused by over
pronation when he walks.

Uh, size 12.

He's not a small man,
I can tell you that much.

Not large either.

Yeah, but when's
his birthday?

You can do that?

What about
the address book, Beck?

Oh, yeah, uh...

with the help of the video
spectral comparator,

I can use infrared light
to see writing

not visible
to the naked eye.

You ought to have
your own talk show.

For what?

Can you help us?

Yeah, yeah.

Uh, the oblique light,

uh, illuminates
the indented impressions.

Uh, luckily she wrote
with a heavy hand.

Ain't science great?

It is if you want
names and addresses.

Do you recognize her,
Mr. Appel?

Sure, that's
Rachel Cardwell.

Damn, what happened?

That's what we're trying
to figure out.

And you think
I know something?

Well, you're name is the first
one in her address book.

Well, I wish I could
tell you that meant something

besides my name
began with an "A."

I did ask her out
a couple of times.

Always got
the "sorry, got plans."

She wasn't
really my type anyway.

Oh, why is that?

She read
F. Scott Fitzgerald.

I just drink like him.

When was the last
time you saw her?

Couple of weeks ago.

She designed

a layout for me.

She worked here?

No, for Dreisner Design.

They're the best.

Oh, my God.

This is terrible.

Is there something
I can do?

How close were you two?

Boss, worker.

We had lunch every
now and then,

talked about business,
worked late sometimes.

And last night?

We rode the elevator down
together at about 6:00.

I caught
a cab downtown,

I assumed she
caught one uptown.

Why is that?

That's where she lives.

She said she was looking
forward to a hot bath

and a good night's sleep.

I guess
she didn't have either.

Can you give us
her home address?

Yeah.

Looks like
she was expecting company.

How you figure?

There's no dishes
in the sink,

no trash in the can,

papers are in a nice,
neat little pile.

That being said,
I'm glad you never invited me

over to your place for dinner.

Oh, come on.

Real people
don't live like this.

I was looking for Rachel.

Yeah, she's not
here right now.

Well,
I heard the door close.

I'm Tim Grayson
from across the hall.

Anne Rice.

It's Rachel's.

I borrowed it.

Why don't you come in

and show me where
she keeps it?

You're robbing the place,
I knew it.

I should have called the cops.

You owe me a quarter.

Oh, my God. Something
happened to her.

I knew it.

She shouldn't have
dressed the way she did.

When's the last time
you saw her?

Last night. I was coming
up from the laundry room

and she was going out.

Around, uh, 9:00,

something
like that.

Did she say where she was going?

A party in Soho.

It's all I know.

Were you two...

No, no, no.

We were friends. Neighbors.

She ever mention
who she was seeing?

No.

But I don't think
she was seeing anyone.

Pretty girl like Rachel?
Why would you say that?

Well, I would have seen him
around here, wouldn't I?

Yeah, if you were looking.

I'm not like that.

Like what?

A weirdo.

A peeping tom, you know...

the kind of people you guys

normally run into.

We're homicide.

I don't really
know her that well.

Well, anything
comes back to you...

I got to go.

Maybe he has to return some
books to the library.

WOMAN
Oh, my God, you're right.

That place is great.

I think Mark and I
broke the bed in 12 places.

I didn't make it to work either.

Well, if your night
ended up anything like mine,

you're out drinking gallons
of coffee right now.

I want to hear
all about it, okay?

I guess the ME can tell us
just how good a time she had.

I'm calling for LUDS.

Fresh bruises
on her wrist and back.

Defensive injuries on
the outer sides of both arms.

Any evidence
of sexual assault?

There's no signs
of penetration,

but the bruise patterns
are consistent

with an attempted
sexual assault.

So she won the battle
but lost the war.

I wouldn't get my
hopes up about any DNA.

She was steeping
like a tea bag all
night in that rain.

Thanks for the imagery.

I minored in poetry.

Tox screen showed a blood
alcohol level of .08.

Cause of death, blunt force
to the left temporal lobe.

What about
this mark on her neck?

Looks like somebody tried
to strangle her first.

If I'm not mistaken,
that's a hickey.

Hey, Lennie.

The party girl
that left the message--

her name is Leanne Parks.

We were just together.

This can't be real.

Uh, we're sorry,
Leanne.

If you could tell us
what happened last night.

I loved her, you know?

We were like sisters.

Take your time.

Um...

we met after work
around 9:00 at Maverick's Bar.

On 73rd?

Mm... we, uh,

had a drink before,
you know, to get loosened up.

Before what?

Tart.

Is that some kind of club?

Yeah, I guess.

Where is it?

It moves around.

It's embarrassing.

Last night it was

at the Revolving Door
on Broome Street.

That's two blocks
from where we found the body.

What is it?

Some kind
of singles club?

Sort of.

Um, your generation
had Plato's Retreat.

You're talking about a sex club.

For women, run by women.

Only the best guys are invited.

Well, looks like a rotten apple
slipped through the cracks.

Last night was my first time.

Rachel had been raving about it

for months.

Who did Rachel hook up with?

He was tall.

Dark curly hair.

Um...

well dressed,
I didn't get his name.

I left with Mark
around midnight.

Mark's last name?

Rachel was still dancing.

Who's in charge
of throwing these shindigs?

Adrienne Longmire.
I have a card somewhere.

There's a whole generation

of women who came of age
after Fear of Flying.

After The Joy of Sex,
and during the AIDS epidemic.

A whole generation of women

who've lost touch
with their sexuality.

We help to put them back
in touch with it.

By staging floating orgies?

I prefer "empowerment parties,"
thank you.

What Hugh Heffner did
for swinging guys

back in the last century,
we do for women now.

And last night?

Was a killer.

Bad choice of words.

Anyway,
we were packed.

Would you have a guest list?

We have a general membership
of over 700 women.

Actually, we're more
interested in the men.

Word of mouth and referrals.

Sounds selective.

Why do I get the feeling
you don't approve?

Hey, I'd be all for it
if one of your members

didn't wind up dead
in an alley.

Does a tall guy with
dark curly hair ring a bell?

You're kidding, right?

I doubt it was one of our guys.

See for yourself.

We have nothing to hide.

There's a party tonight,
at El Teddy's.

I said, not tonight.

We got money.

What part of "no"
eludes you?

Time to go home
and walk the dog, fellas.

You're going
to let these guys in?

We got passes.

Have a nice night.

Like he had any prayer
of getting in.

Uh, we're
interested in

one of your members,
a Rachel Cardwell.

Oh, long blond hair,
artist type, right?

Sounds good.

Not here.

We're thinking
about last night.

Do you remember
the guy she left with?

Uh, tall, dark--

Oh, let me guess, handsome?

Last night,
Tina had the door

with Brooke and Susie.

And where can we
find them?

Tina's at the bar

until midnight.

Working?

Drinking.

Gray Goose Gibsons.

You're Tina, right?

Well, it's a little early,

but if I can't break
my own rules, what's the point?

Sorry to spoil
your good time.

Uh, we heard that you were
working the door last night.

Yup, 8:00 till 2:00.

And I swear, I checked all IDs.

Uh, we want to ask you some
questions about Rachel Cardwell.

Well, I'm sure she didn't
do anything illegal.

Why would you say that?

Oh, well, you can just tell
about people, you know?

Rachel's straight as an arrow,

unless she gets a couple
of martinis into her.

Mm, kind of like you?

Exactly like me.

Did you see
who she left with?

No, my job
is to watch

who comes in.

And Rachel should, like,
thank me for that.

There was this guy last night,
bothering me to try to get in.

He said that Rach
had invited him.

You don't remember
his name, do you?

Yeah, I kept his card.

Geoffrey, with a "G", Viceroy.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

That's Susie.

She, she has a daddy thing.

Detectives,
what can I do for you?

Do you have
a grandson

who works here?

No, all girls.

The youngest
is traveling through Europe

with a bum and his bass guitar.

Well, this is going
to sound stupid,

but did you happen
to be at a club down
in Soho last night?

Would that be

before or after
I ran the marathon?

Uh, just to give you a heads up,
Mr. Viceroy,

somebody has been handing out
your business cards.

Oh, there's one thing
I've learned

about the practice of law,
Detective.

You never have enough clients.

Too bad this card's garbage.

That is your name
on it, isn't it?

Of course,
but it's not my e-mail.

I'm "Viceroy1."

They screwed up

and left off the one. See?

What did you do
with the misprints?

Word processing-- 19th floor.

Thanks.

Well, well,

if it isn't the
concerned neighbor.

Did you find something?

You know what?

I think we just did.

Looks like Rachel to me.

Do we have to do this here?

That's funny, I was
just about to say
the same thing.

Come on.

waiting out in the rain
all night

for Cinderella to come out
of the ball. What happened?

She tell you
to hit the road,

and you smacked her?

No.

What I really
want to know is,

did you cop any before,

or did you have to wait
till after she was dead?

I mean,
they don't fight back.

All right, shut up!

That's disgusting.

Gee, pretty testy there,
aren't you, Timmy?

Rachel was
my friend.

Of course she was.

You just got to see it
from our point of view, Tim.

I mean...

first off, you lied.

Then we come to find out
you're outside the club

begging to get in
so you can see her.

Okay, I tried
to get in,

but they wouldn't let
me... so I went home.

Yeah, and I got the pick six
tomorrow at Belmont.

Lennie.

Do I have to take
this from him?

No, you don't.
My partner's going

to keep his mouth shut

from now on,
ain't he?

Okay.

Let's start from
the beginning.

Sure.

Like I told you,

I ran into Rachel
when she was going out.

That's when you told her

that she shouldn't be wearing
what she was wearing?

She was a good person.

She read books.

She drew pictures.

Why would she dress like that?

And that was around 8:00.

9:00.
That's right.

And what time did you
show up at the club?

About 11:00.

The girls at the door
wouldn't let me in.

They were rude.

Aw, they hurt your feelings,
Timmy?

I've dealt
with people

like that
since high school.

So, when I didn't
hear her come in,

I knew something was wrong.

But it was just a party, Tim,
I mean...

why would you think
something was wrong?

I know you won't believe me.

Man, I been doing this
for a long time.

I had a sense, I don't know.

You had a sense...

What you mean,
you... had a hunch?

In my head...

I saw her lying dead
in an alley.

Oh, I get it, Ed.

He sees dead people.

You see?
I knew it.

You can't reason with imbeciles.

No, no, I've actually
heard of this before.

You have... psychic ability.

Yes.

Hey, Lennie, you
remember the dudes

at the 2-4 used that psychic
on that kidnapper?

Oh, yeah, yeah.

Lennie, I
bet you Tim

can help us find out
who killed Rachel.

You think you can do that, Tim?

I don't know.

Oh, oh, wait.

I see a cup of coffee.

You make one hell
of a bad cop.

Practice,
practice, practice.

I give him about
ten minutes with Ed

before he starts to sing.

Our luck, he sings
as bad as he lies.

You got to admit,
the thing about being
psychic is original.

Looks like you're
about nine minutes off.

Well, being the good citizen
that he is,

he's offered to walk me
through the crime scene.

It was totally
his idea.

I mean, who knows,
maybe it'll spark
another vision.

What did you drink at lunch?

Hey, this dude
wants to talk.

He just needs
a little help.

Listen, while
you're playing

show and tell with him,
I'll see what I can do

about getting a search
warrant for his apartment.

You know, in my
vision, it was dark.

Just do your best, Tim,
all right?

Of course.

It happened
over there.

Damn, you're good.

They were kissing
over here.

Rachel had her back
against the wall.

What did he
look like?

She wanted it
to stop,

but he kept pushing
and pushing.

She screamed, and, uh,
he slapped her, hard.

And then, uh...

And then what
did you do, Tim?

I... I mean the guy,
the... what did he do?

He took a piece of metal
off this, over here,

and, uh, he slammed her
on the side of the head.

She collapsed...

and then he put the
metal bar back in here.

So, what are we looking for?

Something that proves
he's a creep.

Feng Shui?

That convinces me.

And these might
convince a jury.

Still wet.

Smells like
motor oil to me.

I don't know
how I do it.

You know,
it just happens.

If I were you, I would
move to Atlantic City.

I mean, it was like
you were there.

Hmm. I wish I was.

I could have done something.

Well, you tried to warn her.

You had a thing for
Rachel, didn't you?

I don't know; I guess.

Come on, man.

A girl like that...

Like what?

I'm just saying,

she seemed all innocent,

but if you saw the stuff
that was going on

at that club...
What?

Just things your mother
wouldn't approve of.

Tim.

Make it easy on yourself, man.

Tell me you did it.

So, how'd Mr. Cleo do?

Led me
right to the murder weapon.

Well, he's
just full of magic.

Only
Cinderella here

lost a glass slipper

on the way home from the ball.

Forensics matched his shoes

to the prints
at the scene.

Well... get up,
you little freak.

You're under arrest
for the murder of
Rachel Cardwell.

You lied to me.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say
can be used

against you in a court of law...

Why not?
Hillary Clinton

communed with
the spirit

of Eleanor
Roosevelt.

Mary Todd Lincoln
held seances

at the White House.

Not to mention,
police forces

across the country...

With questionable results.

No, but even
the CIA used

psychics in their
remote viewing unit.

Which they disbanded.

There certainly are more things

in heaven and Earth

than are dreamt of
in your philosophy.

Very good, Virginia,

and if we were going
into a Shakespeare seminar

rather than a court of law,

I might be very impressed.

We know that your client
stalked the victim.

We found his shoe prints
at the scene.

He gave the cops
the murder weapon.

Were his prints on it?

It rained all night.

Oh, yeah, that
explains that.

But what it doesn't explain is,
if he killed Rachel Cardwell,

why is he knowingly
giving you the rope

with which you are so
anxious to hang him?

A guilty conscience?

Possibly, but
this is all stuff
of ruminations,

since we'll never actually get
to discuss this in a courtroom.

An omnibus motion--

I just love
saying that--

to exclude all
your evidence,

and then to dismiss
this sucker

before it gets
out of the gate.

The world is
changing, Jack,

but last I
heard, Miranda
is still alive

and doing well.

Nobody bothered
to inform my client

of his rights.

If you read Detective Green's
affidavit,

you'll see it was the defendant

who asked to leave his place
of business to talk.

The police were merely
being amenable.

Oh, so they locked him in
an interrogation room.

Let's not get excited,
Ms. Masters.

I can't help myself.

I see the rights
of honest,

hard-working
citizens

being whittled away

in front of my eyes.

Mr. Grayson offered
to walk

through the crime scene
with Detective Green.

And after that,

they dragged him back
to the police station.

To eat dinner.

He wasn't forced to do anything

he didn't want to do.

No, the standard is
whether a reasonable person

in the defendant's position
would have felt free to go.

Now, I think, after three
or four hours,

a reasonable person would start
to think his life's not his own.

So would I.
Your Honor, this is...

Tough luck, Mr. McCoy.

Everything's out
but the shoe prints.

This Grayson fellow has
pushed J-Lo off the front page.

Well, for the next 25 years,
he might be able

to make a few bucks forecasting
the results of parole hearings

for his new friends.

Don't kid yourself.

Those psychic hot lines make
millions of dollars.

Until the FTC

sues them
for deceptive practices.

All we need to make this case

is Grayson's
shoe print
at the scene,

and testimony that
he was stalking her.

All the rest was gravy.

Let me guess.

Another gift from Ms. Masters.

It looks like she
finally saw the light.

Her notice of intent to
file an affirmative defense

of not guilty
by reason of
mental defect.

Now that's something

a jury might sink it's teeth
into with this guy.

This wasn't my idea.

You think
you're okay?

Yes.

Different doesn't mean sick.

How are you different?

I'm not.

But...

other people...

They're quick to judge.

Was Rachel one of those people?

You think I killed her, too?

I consider
psychiatry
a science.

I have to admit,

my training makes me a bit
skeptical

about psychic communication.

Haven't you ever thought
about a friend

you haven't spoken to in years,

and then suddenly,
the phone rings, and it's him?

Sure.

But I wrote it off
as coincidence.

And what if it
happens over
and over again?

When does
coincidence

become science?

You work with computers,
don't you?

I type.

You don't sound
like you enjoy it.

I majored in math at Cornell.

I started
graduate school.

Why didn't you finish?

Oh, what is the point?

I'm not the kind of person
that gets the teaching jobs.

What kind
of person are you?

The kind that doesn't get
what he wants.

Like Rachel?

I'm the guy who has the answers,

but nobody thinks
about asking the questions.

Nobody picked me
for the softball team.

Or to be their lab partner.

Did Rachel notice you?

I should have been there
for her.

He thinks he sees,

knows things other
people don't.

Makes him
feel superior.

He doesn't actually
believe he had a vision?

He believes
the ability is
bestowed on him.

Everything in his
life is fated,

so nothing negative
is his fault.

It comes from the other world.

So to speak.

It could be a form
of grandiose delusion.

It seems the visions appear

when his world spins
out of control.

Emil, is there anything
you are sure of?

He feels guilty as hell
about Rachel's death.

So he knows killing is wrong?

Then he's sane enough
to suffer the consequences.

Yeah?

Okay, tell her
I'll call her back.

Masters left word she's
willing to accept Man Two

with a recommendation.

Too bad I'm not willing
to offer it.

Yeah, well,
get this.

She's withdrawing
the insanity defense.

Maybe Grayson looked

into his Magic Eight Ball

and came up with name
of the real killer.

Or maybe his lawyer read
my report.

He wouldn't leave me alone.

He said Rachel
invited him.

But you didn't believe him?

Oh, no. Rachel
knew the rules.

All guests' names
are left at the door.

When you told Mr. Grayson

he wasn't getting in,
what did he do?

He argued, and
then he sat

on the hood of a car

parked across the street
and waited.

Did you see the defendant leave
the area?

Uh, no, I wasn't
paying attention.

So he could have

caught a cab
maybe five minutes

after you turned him
away from the door?

It's possible.

Mm-hmm.

It was the first time

I'd ever gone to a Tart party.

Rachel said she always had fun.

She met some
interesting men,

got some
phone numbers.

Anyway, I doubt

any of the guys
at the party
are killers.

Why would you say that?

The women at the club
are all professionals.

Doctors, lawyers.

Rachel worked at the
top graphic design
firm in the city.

The men are invited guests.

I assume they're all
of the same caliber.

Did Rachel meet anyone

at the Tart party
the night she was killed?

She was dancing with a guy,
but it was nothing special.

How can you be so sure?

The way she
was dancing.

We've been close for six years.

I can read her like a book.

There's a lot of sex
at these parties, isn't there?

It's not an orgy.

No, but if I'm not mistaken,

women go there
to get a little action.

If they want.

Bottom line--

women don't go to Tart parties

for good conversation
about Salman Rushdie's

latest book?

Of course, they don't.

The music's too loud.

What did Rachel wear
to the party?

A blouse and skirt.

A miniskirt?

It was above
the knee.

Uh-huh.

And the blouse--

it was lace, wasn't it?

Black see-through lace.

Rachel wasn't a slut, if that's
what you're getting at.

She wore what she did
because it made her feel good.

She didn't dress like that

when she
went to work.

Well, no, of course not.

She'd want to look conservative

in the workplace.

She was conservative.

Perhaps the fellow she was
dancing with didn't know that.

What happened
when they stopped dancing?

I don't know. I left.

Oh, got lucky, did you?

Objection.

I left alone.

Hmm.

Uh, manufacturers produce
hundreds of shoes

with identical treads,

but the prints become unique
through the owner's use.

Could you explain that, please?

Wear will vary
depending on walking style

and contact with
different surfaces.

Any nick,
scratch, or cut

results in points of comparison.

Did you compare

the shoe print found

at the scene to the shoes found

in the defendant's
apartment?

Yes, and they matched.

But you have no way of knowing

exactly when the shoe print was
left at the scene?

No.

Thank you.

I'm retained

by several billion-dollar
companies in Japan

to predict market changes.

You have an MBA,
do you?

No, I'm a psychic.

There's money in that,
isn't there?

I earned over
seven figures last year.

My typical fee
is $5,000 an hour.

You're kidding.

That's more
than a transplant surgeon.

My clients earned
hundreds of millions

based on my predictions.

Give us an example, please.

Three years ago,

I advised one client

to sell stock and buy
30-year government bonds.

Another shorted Enron shares

two years prior
to the fiasco.

Well, could it be you
just got lucky?

Not according
to the scientists

at a leading university that
have tested me repeatedly.

And what specifically were
the results of that testing?

Brain scans showed areas
in my right temporal lobe

were particularly active.

Uh-huh.

Can I assume that these
companies that paid you

this seven-figure income

are doing just fine despite
the current global recession?

I really wouldn't know.

Just so happens I do.

You indicated
in your tax return

that Hiashi Microcomputers
paid you $300,000 last year.

The Wall Street Journal says
their sales are off 50%.

Yoshi Industries
paid you $200,000,

and their year-end shows
a $500-million loss.

I guess your temporal lobe
was off that day.

Forgive me,
Mr. Harrison,

but what leading university was
it that performed these tests?

The Para-Psychic Institute
in Taos, New Mexico.

New Mexico, that's where
the aliens landed, isn't it?

Objection.

I'll have you know
the University of Arizona

also conducted tests
that are persuasive

in establishing
the survival of consciousness

after death.

Kind of like Ghostbusters?

Why must you ridicule
what you can't understand?

Because if people
like you could
really predict

the future,

that would pretty much negate
the concept of free will.

Just because you can't see
something, Mr. McCoy,

doesn't mean it isn't there.

Doesn't mean it is, either.

It happens
now and then.

I have visions.

And after you had this
particular vision,

what did you do?

I tried to find Rachel,
to warn her.

But they wouldn't let you
in the door.

That's right.
So, I waited

outside till around 1:00 A.M.

And then I remembered a number--

276.

So I went
to 276 Broome Street.

And I saw her.

She was already dead.

So that would explain
your shoe print at the scene.

Why did you wait
to tell all this to the police?

Because I knew
what they would think.

Uh-huh.

How's this trial
going to come out?

Oh, objection?

That's very funny,
counselor.

Don't do it again.

You went to the club
to warn Rachel?

That's right.

It was very important

that you got to her immediately?

Yes.

So why didn't you call her
on her cell phone?

I didn't know the number.

I thought you were friends.

We saw each other
usually every day.

She had you over
for dinner, did she?

No.

Drinks?

It wasn't like that.

So then you weren't close.

I considered her a friend.

What did she consider you?

Do you hang pictures
of all your friends

on your office wall?

No.

Did you take
these photos,
Mr. Grayson?

Yes.

Rachel know you took them?

No. That's my hobby.

Hobby or obsession?

A hobby.

Taking photos
of someone

you weren't close to
without her knowledge.

She wouldn't have minded.

But you just said

that you weren't close.

How could you know?

We were close enough.

Not as close as you'd like.

You wanted her, didn't you?

But she wouldn't
have you.

What do you want me to say?

That you killed her!

Fine! I did it!

Objection!

Are you happy now?

What can I say, Virginia.

In 20 years, I've never
had anyone confess

just like that on the stand.

Yeah, yeah, you're Perry Mason
brought back from the dead.

Only, he didn't mean it.

Then he shouldn't
have said it.

No, you heard him
on redirect, Jack.

He took back everything
he said on cross.

And I'm sure the
jury believed him.

Give me Man One,
and we'll call it a day.

Like I said, 20 years and I've
never had anyone confess

that easily in open court.

Then I'm putting your shrink
on the stand

right after lunch.

For what? He already said
Grayson is as sane as a judge.

That's right.
But now I need some evidence

that Tim didn't actually mean
what you made him say in court.

Mr. Grayson honestly seemed
to believe he had a vision, yes.

Is that rare?

I've had several
patients

who honestly believed
they communicated

with dead relatives,

some who believed they saw
the future.

What do they have in common,
Doctor?

They all felt a sense
of helplessness

that their lives
were somehow

predetermined,

that they had no control
over their environment.

This helplessness typically
leads to guilt

and inertia, which
leads to more guilt.

So you wouldn't say

these were strong individuals?

The patients
I've seen, no.

They typically try to
act the way they think

another wants them to act.

So these
weak individuals

could be easily manipulated
by others?

In certain cases, yes.

And if the other person
is a person

in a position of authority...?

They would try to
please them even more.

A person, for instance...

well, like
a district attorney.

That's possible.

Mm-hmm.

Would you call
a homicide detective

a symbol of authority?

Yes.

Wouldn't you think
that a confession

by Mr. Grayson would make

Detectives Briscoe and Green
smile from ear to ear?

I would assume as much.

So Mr. Grayson

isn't as easily manipulated
as his counsel

would have us believe?

In my opinion, no.

I want you to listen
to something.

Well, if it's tape
of a guilty verdict,

we should be hearing
the live version soon enough.

PARKS
Oh, my God, you were right.

That place is great.

I think Mark and I broke the bed
in 12 places.

That was Leanne Parks,
Rachel's friend.

She testified

that she left the party alone.
Why would she lie?

Maybe she didn't
think the court

was an appropriate place
to discuss her sex life.

Yeah, you're probably right.

But you'd like to get
all the ducks in a row.

Sorry. Miss Parks is
down at the university.

I called. They said
she wasn't teaching today.

She doesn't, usually,
on Tuesdays,

but a lot of times
she sees students.

Do you work any nights?

Three a week.

Do you know
Leanne's boyfriend?

I think his name is Mark.

I'll tell you what.
Miss Parks is discreet.

All the years I've been here,

I've never once seen her bring
a date home.

Thanks.

God.

I didn't think
anyone would notice.

So you
intentionally lied.

A white lie.

What difference
does it make?

It's called perjury.

I'll have to tell the defense.

I wouldn't be surprised
if they want

to re-examine you.

Wait.

You picked up a guy,
Leanne.

It's not a felony.

You don't understand.

Uh...

I didn't lie in court.

I lied to Rachel,

to her machine.

Guys lie about their conquests
all the time.

There wasn't any Mark.

Leanne Parks is smart,
she's attractive,

she went to a sex party
on more than one occasion,

but she's never brought
a man home.

I think that's weird.

Maybe she just doesn't
like strange guys

knowing where she lives.

Maybe she doesn't like guys.

She told the cops
she loved Rachel.

I'd cancel my subscription
to Ms. Magazine

if I were you, Serena.

The wool glove they found
at the scene was a size eight.

Is that big or small?

What size do you wear?

No help. Large.

Everyone assumed
that the glove

they found was Grayson's.

It wasn't?

Men's sizes are small,
medium, large.

Women's are five, six...

Leanne Parks?

They went to the party together.

It could be
that they left together, too.

The glove was large
enough to fit Grayson.

With the other evidence
against him,

the police didn't look
any further.

So the only problem is

what were Grayson's shoe prints
doing there?

Watching?

So he deluded himself into
believing it was a vision?

Skoda said those visions

could be delusions,
or repressed memories.

What's in it for me?

Your client could be eating
lunch tomorrow

without chains on his wrists.

Yeah, and I could end up in
front of the Bar Committee.

I won't tell if you won't.

I'll ask for a recess.

I don't understand.

The cops found a witness
to the murder, Tim.

Good.

She said it was you.

She's lying.

The fact is,
I can't help you anymore.

You lied to me.

Ethically,
I have to resign as counsel.

Mr. McCoy is not going to oppose
my motion to be released.

You're on your own
from here on out.

You can't.
I would never kill Rachel.

Why should
I take your word

over that of a
college professor,

especially someone that was
really Rachel's friend,

not a wannabe like you?

It's over, Tim.

There's nothing
anybody can do.

No.

Leanne Parks was with her,
she saw you.

No! No!

She's lying.

It's better
if you just confess, Tim.

Rachel didn't want...

Leanne was trying to...

They were kissing.

But Rachel tried to get away.

Oh, my God!

I saw it!

What did you see?

Leanne took the metal bar.

She was angry.

Was anyone else there?

I was weak.

I watched Leanne kill Rachel!

And I did nothing to stop it.

It's okay.

Leanne Parks sang

as soon as the cops slapped
the chains on her.

Oh, by the way,
her attorney left
three messages.

I'm sure she wants a deal.

With this Grayson fellow
as our prime witness,

grab it up quick.

I'm thinking about it.

You're kidding?

Well, Grayson may not be
as crazy as we think he is.

You know, millions of people
paid $50 a head

to watch six psychics
talking to the spirit

of George Washington
on pay-per-view.

What's the point?

I hear the old boy
wasn't such a good interview

when he was alive.

Take the deal.

I already did.

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