All language subtitles for Law.and.Order.S13E20.Kid.Pro.Quo.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

In the criminal justice system,
the people are represented

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.

Trade you straight up, the
adults for the kids.

You can't just change your mind
at the last minute, Terry.

It screws up
the whole schedule.

Little snots can't even grip
their little rackets.

Puny serves, and their teeny
tiny attention spans...

Come on, man,
I'm begging you,

put me out of my misery.

No!

Switch with me, or I'll
take to drinking,

and I'll end up
like this dude,

sleeping it off
on some park bench.

That's a woman.

Look at her hair.
That's blood.

I don't know CPR.

Doesn't matter.

The back of her
head's bashed in.

Skull's fractured.
Looks like multiple blows.

Somebody was mad
at this lady.

Any sign of a murder weapon?

Yeah, found a blood drenched
cane under the bench.

Nice walking stick.

It's a rabbit.

Yeah, with green eyes.

My guess? You're looking
for a killer with a limp.

Hey, Cantor, you focus
on the bodies,

we'll solve the crimes,
all right?

No problem.

You got a time of death?

Well, judging from lividity,
body temp, air temp,

insect activity, dew point,

and because I'm very
good at my job,

I'd say somewhere between
8:00 and 10:00 last night.

Any I.D.?

Uh, no, no purse.
Maybe she was mugged.

Hey, what did
I say before?

I'll leave
the theorizing to you.

For your book
of memories.

Captioning sponsored by
UNIVERSAL NETWORK TELEVISION

Cause of death
was intercranial bleeding

from blunt-force trauma.

We found a walking stick at
the scene, covered with blood.

The weapon?

Forensics is working it up now.

It must have been hers.

Yeah, see that?

Titanium.

She'd had a hip
replacement,

probably within
the last year or so.

Damn, she got beat to death
with her own cane?

That's cold.

She's also had
an oophorectomy.

She had her
oophers removed?

Her ovaries.

By the way, I don't know
how CSU missed this,

but we found her keys
and her cell phone

in an inside pocket.

Those crime scene guys
are highly overrated.

Problem is they all
think they're cops.

What are you doing?

I'm checking her menu.

Well, if you're
ordering coffee,

I'll take one dark
with two sugars.

There we go, work.

Hello to you, too.

Uh, can you tell me
where you're located?

Okay. Thank you.

Where are we going?

The Knowles School,
East 87th Street.

Tots and town cars.

Nannies of all nations.

Just like my grade school.

I can see you now--
juvenile delinquent,

black leather jacket,
greasy Vaseline hairdo.

No, Brylcreem.

A little dab'll do you.

The phone company said
that this cell phone

was billed to this school.

We issued them to our staff.

Thanks for returning it.

This number belongs
to Dr. Landon.

Where'd you find it?

In the park.

Is this Dr. Landon?

My Lord, what happened to her?

She was murdered
some time last night.

Oh, my God.

Was she a teacher here?

Director of admissions.

We need to contact
her next of kin.

Perhaps you'd better speak to
Mr. Scofield, the headmaster.

Debra taught kindergarten here
for ten years.

She was a fantastic teacher.

She made it look easy.

All the good ones do.

I thought she was
the Director of Admissions.

She had an accident
on her summer break.

She was hit by a motorbike,
shattered her hip.

When she came back last fall,

we offered her
the admissions job,

we thought it would
be easier, but...

It wasn't?

Admissions makes
teaching kindergarten

look like a day
at the beach.

The parents can be rather
zealous, shall we say,

in pursuit of their goals.

That sounds stressful.

She handled it with aplomb,
like everything else she did.

She was an amazing woman.

She'll be missed.

Sounds like you knew her pretty
well.

Well, not socially, if that's
what you're implying.

We have to ask.

Strictly colleagues.

Is there anything you can tell
us about her family or friends?

Her parents
were deceased.

As far as I know, she had no
other immediate family.

So there's nobody
we can call?

We were her family.

I don't know anything
about her private life.

So that's it?

At Knowles,

we eschew gossip

and place a premium on privacy.

What about her address, or
is that confidential, too?

No, of course not.

When Debra
became Admissions Director,

she moved into the carriage
house on the grounds.

I saw her on the street
last night,

heading towards Fifth Avenue
and the park.

What time
was that?

8:30, quarter of 9:00.

She always leave the radio on?

No, sir.

Here's her purse.

Wallet.

Cash is still here.

Looks like she might have gone
out to meet somebody

and expected
to come right back.

She ever have any visitors?

Here? Never saw any
suitors, no, sir,

if that's what you mean.

Lived here like
it was a nunnery.

Not that I'm suggesting she was
a nun, you understand.

What are you suggesting?

She had a great respect
for the school, sir.

She wouldn't have entertained
gentlemen callers

on the premises,
if you get my drift.

Yeah. We do.

Thank you very much.

Take your time.

Hope you catch
the bastard who did it.

Oh, Palm Pilot.

Answering machine.

She was an opera lover.

La Boheme.

You don't have
to love opera

to love La Boheme.

It's a Broadway play, bro.

At a hundred bucks a pop?

On a teacher's pay?

Maybe it wasn't her hundred.

We'll see if we can trace
the ticket.

Here's something I recognize.

A maintenance check.

Hmm?

That's a euphemism for alimony.

Oh, who knew?

Yeah, you're lucky.

I guess that gets
the ex off the hook,

speaking of lucky.

Some people are born lucky,
some people make their own luck.

Am I happy to stop paying alimony?

Sure. Who wouldn't be?

Did I kill my ex
to make that happen?

Do I look like
that big a schmuck?

Besides, I only owed her
for another 18 months.

Well, still, that's
a big chunk of change.

You strapped for cash, doc?

Money is not my problem.
Time is.

You know what a
botox-petrified garden

this zip code's become?

I've got these rich gals
lined up around the block.

They'd rather look like the
sphinx than get a wrinkle.

Like people can't tell
how old they are anyway.

Why'd you two split up?

Kids.

We were told that
she couldn't have any.

She wanted to adopt,

I didn't want a stranger
running around my house.

She spent enough time
with other people's kids.

That make you jealous, did it?

We grew apart.

Maybe I screwed up. Who knows?

So, other than by alimony check,
did you guys keep in touch?

I saw her in the hospital

after her hip surgery.

So you wouldn't know if
she was seeing anybody?

Physical therapist
three times a week.

Other than that,
I couldn't say.

You know his name?

Mr. Magic Fingers?

You know, come to think of it,
when you add it up,

she probably spent more time
with him naked

on the massage table than she
did with me our whole marriage.

I had a girlfriend who had to get
a nose job

courtesy of
a Bermuda scooter.

Debra wasn't on a scooter.

She was trying to avoid one.

How often did you see her?

Three times a week

for the last
six months of so.

I can't believe this.

Was your relationship more than
just professional?

Excuse me?

I don't know, with all
that touching going on?

I touch my clients for
therapeutic purposes only.

And Debra's therapy wasn't
pleasant, it was painful.

She had a lot of guts
to stick it out.

She was a very dedicated person.

Still, all that time
on the table, I mean,

she must have
confided in you.

She ever mention she
was seeing somebody?

She did. One.

Thing is, he's married.

I heard it on the car radio
coming in this morning,

breaking news.

How'd you two meet?

I became Debra's
nutritionist post-op.

She was in pretty good shape,
but the pounds

add up when you
can't work out.

So you provided an alternative
exercise regimen?

What is that supposed to mean?

Dr. Freeman, you take all of
your patients to the theater?

Taking a friend to the theater
is not a criminal act.

It could lead to one
if your wife found out.

So just for our records,

where were you
on Sunday night?

Where I always am on Sunday
nights, in Greenwich,

dining with another
happily married couple.

Ah, life in the suburbs, Ed.

See what we're missing?

My wife doesn't care about
my extracurricular activities

as long as they don't interfere
with her weekend plans.

Maybe Debra was in a vulnerable
state after her accident,

maybe I took advantage
of that,

but we both knew
it wasn't going anywhere.

And Debra didn't want any more out of the
relationship?

She never pushed.

Her life was that school.

She was devoted to it.

In fact, I hadn't really
seen her in weeks.

She was all wrapped up
in this admissions thing.

Consumed by it.
It was kind of flipping her out.

Flipping her out how?

It's harder to get
into Knowles than Harvard.

Some of these parents
can get pretty aggressive.

Abusive, even.

It got to the point
she wouldn't answer her phone.

Uh, there wasn't anything
on her answering machine

or on her office voicemail,

but these are
from her cell phone.

Dr. Landon?

You know who this is.

You're holding my child's future
in your hands.

You say you're committed
to doing the right thing.

I hope you are.

I really do.

For your sake.

And no name.

LUDS show it was
from a pay phone

near the MTA Headquarters.

And now for pissed-off
parent number two.

Miss Landon, this
is Clarissa Wagner again.

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

Let me just say that Chloe
has to attend Knowles.

I'll do anything to make sure
that happens,

and I won't take no
for an answer.

Do you understand me?

Hell hath no fury like
a mother scorned.

I wish I were
the violent type.

That woman
has ruined our lives.

For months we worked like maniacs to get
Chloe into Knowles--

extra tutors,
the interviews, the tests.

Sounds like a
lot of stress.

Oh, Valium helps.

Not on you,
on your daughter.

Well, you're never too
young to learn how to cope.

It's only kindergarten.

It's not just
kindergarten,

it's the rest
of her life.

The right prep school
leads to the right college,

the right job, the right career, the right
husband.

It's... it's a carefully
calibrated ladder.

And if you miss a step...

Excuse me. That's
the caterer.

I'll be right back.

Sounds like
a vicious circle to me.

If I had a mama like that,
I'd run away with the circus.

So, what tricks
are you going to do?

Oh, we're not here
for your party, honey.

I know.
You're here to entertain.

Daddy told me he got lots
of people to entertain.

Do we look like clowns?

Don't answer that.

Sweetie, we don't work
for your daddy.

Everybody for my daddy
and does what he says.

I see you met Chloe.

Mm-hmm.

Mrs. Wagner,
we need to know

where you were
on Sunday night.

Uh, my husband and I

were looking for a house
in Greenwich.

Well, no point in staying
in the city, humiliated.

Humiliated?

Well, everybody
knows that Chloe

didn't get into Knowles,

so we have to go someplace else
and start over.

It's a shame because
we just finished putting

Botticelli's Primavera
on her bedroom ceiling.

Botticelli.

Who did the baseboards
and the trim?

I hope you are. I really do.

I'm sorry,
I don't recognize that voice.

But then I wouldn't;
I retired last spring.

And Debra replaced you.

I recommended
Debra for the job.

To tell you the truth, I don't
think she was entirely happy.

She missed teaching.

Not to mention all the disgruntled parents
she had to deal with.

Which is why I'm back, holding
down the fort temporarily.

I thought the admission letters
went out last week.

Well, there's still
the waiting list

and some very
desperate parents.

They threaten, they cajole,
they try to bribe you.

Were you ever tempted?

There's not a lot
money can't buy

in Manhattan.

An apartment in an exclusive
co-op building is one;

admission to private school
is another.

So, you're saying nobody
can buy their way in here?

Absolutely not.

Other than legacies.

Legacies?

Children of alumni,
siblings of current students.

Otherwise, admission
is strictly by merit.

We'd still like to see
a list of the kids

who didn't make the cut.

Legacies.

I wish I had a legacy.

It's like affirmative
action for white folks.

Ain't that how George W.
got into Yale,

'cause his daddy
went there?

Come to think of it,
I do have a legacy.

My old man went to
P.S. 21 and so did I.

Hey, there's a kid
on the waiting list

who lives out
of the district:

Cassie Waters, 135th Street.

Harlem. Could be
our mystery caller.

Well, you never know these days,
Harlem's totally gentrified.

I was frustrated;
that's why I left that message,

but I didn't kill her.

You were pissed off
Cassie didn't get in.

Look, that school claims to take
the best regardless of finances.

They say they got
scholarship slots,

they're committed to diversity,
all that bull.

And you thought Cassie
should have been accepted?

Dr. Landon kept saying

that Cassie was going
to make the list,

and then we got the letter.

Here, Daddy, cookies.

Thanks, sweetie.

Why don't you go play now, okay?

Can I watch SpongeBob?

Okay.

She reads
at a second-grade level,

she's learning
to play the piano,

scored off the charts
on her ERBs,

and I didn't have any four grand
to pay for a coach.

Parents hire a coach to get
their kids into kindergarten?

Anything for an edge.

So where were you
on Sunday night?

Here with Cassie.

I'm a single father;
it's all on me.

She's in bed
and lights out by 8:00.

And you were in
all night long?

I wouldn't leave Cassie alone.

Maybe you
hired a sitter.

No, man, I was here.

Well, it would help if you had
somebody to vouch for you.

I don't know
what to tell you.

I wasn't mad at Dr. Landon.

She was on our side.

I liked the lady.

She kept telling us
to hang in there.

I thought she had the juice,

but I guess when the chips are
down, money is all that counts.

Ever.

Got it, thanks.

Forensics are in.

They found powder-blue cashmere
fibers embedded in the cane.

Superfine, whatever that means.

As in twice as expensive
as ordinary.

Yeah, whatever
happened to mohair?

No prints or blood at the scene
other than the victim's,

but get this: They got a hit
from Debra Landon's apartment--

a partial-- and guess what?
He's in the system.

Dude's got a record?

Only for being Bus Dispatcher
of the Month.

Our man, Marvin Waters.

She invited us over to talk
about the situation.

She was as frustrated as I was
about Cassie not getting in.

Did she say why Cassie
wasn't getting in?

She wouldn't.

Only that the headmaster
pulled rank at the last minute

and bumped Cassie to the
waiting list for some other kid.

Let me tell you something.

If I was going to kill anybody,
it would have been him.

Condescending bastard.

I remember Mr. Waters well.

Very angry man.

Angry enough to kill?

I wouldn't know,
but I do know

that he couldn't reconcile
himself to the fact

that his daughter just
didn't have what it takes

to be part of the
Knowles School community.

Oh, thank you.

What is that,
the right complexion?

We have a number of minority students,
Detective.

We're committed
to diversity

if the studens
are qualified.

You know that's the trouble
with affirmative action,

it paints them all
with the same brush.

Them?
Minority students.

It stigmatizes them.

No one takes them seriously.

Oh, she got in because
she was black or Latino or...

well, whatever.

I told Mr. Waters

that Cassie would be better off
not going to Knowles.

Debra Landon thought that
Cassie Waters deserved a spot.

Well, and I overruled her.

It was her job to recommend
and mine to decide, and I did.

Where were you Sunday
evening, Mr. Scofield?

At home.

Alone?

Just me and Dante.

Dante?

Alighieri.

Purgatorio?

Isn't that a strip club
in Queens?

I get to spend all day with him.

Lennie, let's let Mr. Scofield

get back to work.

Were you home all evening,
Mr. Scofield?

Except for my constitutional,

which I take every evening
religiously at 8:00.

Your constitutional?

You should watch more
Masterpiece Theater, Ed.

So, uh, where do you usually go?

It varies,

wherever my mood takes me.

Am I a suspect?

Just a couple
more questions

for our report.

So, where did your mood
take you Sunday evening?

Well, let's see.

Over to Madison, up to 96th

across to Fifth
and then back home.

You go into the park?

Not after dark.

Anybody see you?

Thousands of my fellow citizens,
but no one I know.

And how long
were you out?

45 minutes exactly.

Thanks.

Powder-blue cashmere.

Yeah. Looked
superfine to me.

You know,
if he is the guy,

it's pretty arrogant
of him to be wearing it.

Or pretty stupid.

And Waters was right.

He is a condescending bastard.

I wanted to kill him myself.

What can I do for you?

Hey, were you
on the door Sunday night?

Swing shift,
2:00 to 10:00.

And did you notice
Mr. Scofield go out?

You could set
your watch by him.

Every night at 8:00.

Man's an urban legend,
The all-weather walker.

Neither snow nor sleet
nor et cetera

can keep him from his
"evening constitutional."

And back
at 8:45.

Like I said,
man's a machine.

So, last Sunday night you
saw him come back in at 8:45?

On the dot-- I mean,
I must have; he always does.

Well, did you
or didn't you?

Well, to tell you the truth,

I might have slipped down
to the corner

for a pack of smokes
about then.

Just for something
to do.

So, you didn't actually see
him come back Sunday night?

Come to think of it, no.

Thanks.

Okay, thanks, Frank,
I owe you one.

Hey, the doorman
on the graveyard shift said

that Scofield went out
again at 11:30,

didn't come back till
almost 1:00 Monday morning.

That's funny, he didn't mention
a midnight constitutional to us.

And, you know, I wonder if
his phones were out that day.

Huh? The LUDS on Debra Landon's phone.

8:14, Sunday night,
she got a call from a pay phone

at 92nd and Fifth.

That's across from the park.

And it's two blocks
from Scofield's apartment.

So what'd you think, Ed,
you think he called her,

said, "Let's take a walk,
talk things over?"

Maybe she saw it
as a last chance

to make a pitch for Cassie Waters.

Yeah.

Oh, all right.

We'll be right there.

That was Myra Camp.

She got something off
of Debra's office computer.

She washed her e-mail
Sunday night.

What time?
Logged on at 11:42,

signed off at eight minutes
past midnight.

No, she didn't.

Now, we were told
she was killed

some time between 8:00
and 10:00.

Oh.

Can you
get it back?

Detective, you know I never met
a hard drive I can't lick.

This is one I retrieved
from the server.

Landon sent it to Scofield
the week before she died.

"Re: Cassie Waters.

"I can't disagree more strongly.

"You're making a huge mistake.

You'd compromise the integrity
of the admissions process."

We already know she and Scofield
disagreed about Cassie Waters.

I don't suppose you could tell
us who deleted the e-mail?

I can't give you a name.

But it had to be someone

with a master override password.

Meaning?

Meaning they could
get onto any computer

on the school's network.

Now, how many people
in the school

would have a master password?

Thanks.

Well done, Avery, you're a
gentleman.

I have $7,000
from Avery Herman.

Do I hear 7,500?

I do not.

Well, then, we have $7,000
from Avery Herman.

I have $7,000.
$7,000 going...

once.

Seven... thousand... dollars

going twice.

Sold to the man in
the silver bracelets.

Wyatt Scofield,
you're under arrest

for the murder
of Debra Landon.

You have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say can be used
against you in a court of law.

You have the right
to an attorney.

If you cannot afford one,
one will be provided for you.

If you cannot afford one,
one will be provided for you.

Docket ending 724,

People v. Wyatt Scofield,

one count of murder
in the second degree.

Norman Rothenberg for the
defense, Your Honor.

The honor is mine,
Mr. Rothenberg.

Ready to enter a plea,
Mr. Scofield?

Not guilty, Your Honor.

Excellent choice.

I love a good society murder.

Perhaps we'll
all get famous.

Miss Southerlyn?

People request bail in the
amount of $1,000,000 dollars.

Your Honor, the defendant has
limited financial resources.

You're not working

pro bono are you,
Mr. Rothenberg?

Mr. Scofield's friends

have raised funds
for his defense.

Then he's not without
financial recourse, is he?

The defendant has deep roots
within the community.

We ask that he be released
on his own recognizance.

Mr. Scofield might have
deep roots in the community,

but his friends have
deep pockets.

We think
he's a definite flight risk.

The defendant will surrender
his passport.

Bail is set at $500,000 cash
or bond. Next.

Judge Torledsky is right.

We are looking at
this year's Skakel Fest.

Maybe you enjoy
the limelight,

but personally I
find it carcinogenic.

I'd be glad to avoid
the media feeding frenzy

of trial if Mr. Scofield
can convince us

that his actions
weren't premeditated

with malice of forethought,

I might entertain
a lesser plea.

I'll tell you what.

Why don't we just dismiss
the charges outright?

Not a chance.

Why would I kill Debra?

We were colleagues,
nothing more.

I barely knew the woman.

Her e-mail indicates

that she was threatening

to go to your board
about something you did.

You thought your job
was in jeopardy.

She was upset I overruled
one of her admissions decisions.

I've been at the Knowles School
for 25 years.

Dr. Landon taught kindergarten
before she was promoted.

Whose expertise do you think
the board values more?

Then why did you erase
her e-mail?

I did no such thing.

You lied to the police,

fibers from
your sweater...

This is absurd!

Wyatt, please, if I may.

Look, you can have all the sugar
in the world, Jack,

you can have all the chocolate,
you can have all the icing,

but if you don't have the yeast,

you ain't baking a cake.

Meaning?

Motive.

Even if what you're
hypothesizing is true,

my client didn't have
to kill Dr. Landon.

He could merely have fired her.

Well, it won't be
the first time

I've tried a case on
circumstantial evidence alone.

Sure, that works great...
for drug dealers and pimps.

We're talking about
the landed gentry here, folks,

and motive goes a long way.

Well, we know Debra Landon was threatening
to go

to the Board
about something.

The problem is, we don't know what it was.

Her e-mail said
he was compromising

the integrity
of the process.

From my experience
from these people,

integrity is usually
a euphemism for money.

You think Scofield had to be taking money
under the table?

Well, we know Cassie
Waters didn't get in.

I'll find out
who took her spot.

There are 50 kids
on the waiting list.

All ready, willing and able to pay $20,000
for kindergarten.

It goes up to $26,000
for first grade.

We do have
scholarship students.

Out of the 50,

how many were
ultimately accepted?

Ten, although three had
already accepted Horace Mann,

three accepted Riverdale.

Were any accepted

after Mr. Scofield rejected
Cassie Waters?

Last child accepted
was Jared Anchin.

His letter went out the same day
as Cassie Waters'.

Anchin-- I know that name.

I wouldn't be
proud of it.

Jared's dad is Harvey Anchin.

You mean...

That's right,
the Prince of Porn.

I guess Mr. Scofield didn't
think that we should hold

the sins of the father
against the son.

I said two percent.

This is half and half.

What are you trying to do,
kill me?

Ah, ah, ah, ah...

You know what
this stuff is?

Liquid coronary.

You're really working for John Ashcroft,
aren't you?

I-I'll get you another.

Mr. Anchin.

If you're here

for the screening,
see the girl at the door.

Actually, I'm not.

Serena Southerlyn,
District Attorney's Office.

I have all my licenses.

I have my financials filed
with the Secretary of State,

and most important,

I know the First Amendment
backwards and forwards.

I'd like to talk to you
about Debra Landon.

Never heard of her.

She was the admissions director
of the Knowles school.

Oh, God, yeah.
That's right.

I, I had my girl
send her flowers.

And her office sent them back.

That could be because
she was murdered.

Oh, sure, why not?

I sell dirty pictures,
I make dirty movies,

I must kill people too.

Listen, do you know
that pornography

is an $8-billion-dollar-
a-year industry?

It always amazes me
that nobody watches it.

Nobody thinks
you killed her.

We were just wondering
if you made a contribution.

Yeah, I tried,

but those tight-asses didn't
think my money was good enough.

Lucky my kid has brains.

Yeah, look at that.

You know who that is?

That's Jack Mayberry.

He's the CEO
of Oxford Electric.

And that fat guy?

That's Boyd Carson.

He's on the board
of MacArthur International.

And the good-looking
gentleman,

that's Freddy Scarpio of Scarpio Cement
and Plumbing.

They all invested in my movie.

Their clean money goes
into my bank accounts,

and suddenly it's untouchable by decent
folk.

Actually,
I was wondering

if Wyatt Scofield felt
the same way about your money.

Who?

Look, um, I got hands
to shake so I'm going to...

Are you sure Scofield doesn't have another
bank account somewhere?

Not in this state,
anyway.

Well, from what
I've got here,

the only money he deposits
are his paychecks.

Maybe Anchin paid him off
in trade.

You get my kid into your school,

I'll give you a lifetime supply of skin
flicks.

It's easier to get cable.

Look at this.

Every month like clockwork,

Scofield paid $2,300
to the Fitzgerald Company.

He lives at the Fitzgerald;
it must be rent.

Last month it stopped.

You think Anchin's
paying his rent?

From what I hear,
he could afford it.

You know how many buildings
I own?

I'm supposed to remember

if one tenant missed
a rent payment?

If you could just check
your records, sir.

Why don't you talk
to my managing agent?

He's on 14th street.
He'd be happy to help you.

And I'd be happy to talk to him,
but I'm already here.

What building
we talking about?

The Fitzgerald.

You should have said that
in the first place.

I'm taking that building co-op.

Putting in a new lobby,
a fitness center,

pool on the roof,
courtyard in the back.

So if Mr. Scofield purchased
his apartment...

He's not paying rent
to me anymore.

His hard earned money's

going to his bank.

Hey, I still got some
great units left

if you're interested.

I read about it
in the paper.

I can't believe

Mr. Scofield would
be involved in a murder.

Did you know him well?

He'd come in to get cash.

The ATMs scared him.

From what I understand,

Mr. Scofield recently purchased
his apartment.

I should be so lucky.

A building goes co-op

while you're living there?

It's the next best thing
to winning the lotto.

I think he said the outside
apprised for his unit

was a million three.

He got it
for $700,000.

The thing is, I reviewed
his bank records,

but I didn't see
any mortgage payments.

I wouldn't know.

He never applied for a loan
with us.

I pulled the financials

from the Fitzgerald conversion
from the Secretary of State.

Bud Rush, the owner
of the building,

gave Scofield an apartment

worth almost a million
and a half dollars.

It's nice to have friends
in high places.

Management could lower prices because the
cost

of the cement for the
renovations also dropped.

Rush bought his cement

from Scarpio Cement
and Plumbing.

When I talked
to Harvey Anchin,

he told me that
Freddie Scarpio

invested in his movies.

I met Harvey Anchin.

He wouldn't have Scarpio
do a favor for Rush

unless there was something
in it for him.

Like getting his son
into the Knowles school.

Anchin scratches Rush's back,

Rush scratches Scofield's,
and around and around we go.

Until Debra Landon found out
where all the itches were.

Only problem is,

how could she possibly find out
about all this?

She didn't have to.

All she has to do was go public
about Cassie Waters' rejection.

A lot of questions
would be asked.

Which would lead
to a lot of answers.

Microscopic examination

revealed the presence
of high-grade cashmere fibers.

Have you seen this sweater
before,

People's 12,
belonging to the defendant?

Uh, we subjected it
to a series of tests,

comparing the material to fibers
found in the murder weapon,

and the thickness, color

and chemical composition
are identical.

Were you able to ascertain when
the fibers came to be lodged

on the head
of the victim's cane?

Well, since they were imbedded
in her blood,

along with strands of her hair,

they had to have been
deposited there

at the time when she
was struck with her cane.

In other words,
when she was killed,

at the time of her murder?
Yes.

And how would they have come
to be imbedded there?

The victim must have tried

to fend off her assailant
using her cane,

and the head of it
hit his sweater.

And then he must have
taken the cane from her,

and beaten her

to death with it.

I think that's exactly what happened.

Identical, you say?

That's right.

Does that mean that the fibers
found on the cane

definitely came from

Mr. Scofield's sweater?

Not necessarily,
but the likelihood is high.

There are other expensive

blue cashmere sweaters in the
world besides Mr. Scofield's?

Same manufacturer,
same dye lot,

same wool.

It's possible...
I suppose.

Or maybe somebody else was
wearing Mr. Scofield's sweater.

Your Honor?

Restrain yourself, Mr. Beck.

Sorry, Your Honor.

Fiber comparison
isn't an exact science, is it?

I mean, not like... DNA?

No.

Or even fingerprints.

As a matter of fact,

there were no
fingerprints or DNA,

other than the victim's,

found on the cane,
isn't that right?

That's correct.

Just some fibers...

which may, or may not, have come
from Mr. Scofield's sweater.

Is that a question?

Oh, I think
you've already answered it.

I only graduated from high school.

I had to work to
help out my family.

I swore my daughter
would have it better.

That's why you wanted Cassie

to attend the
Knowles School?

She earned it. She deserved it.

Dr. Landon said that Knowles

would give her the best
education the city had to offer.

It cost $20,000 a year,
Mr. Waters.

How were you going
to pay for it?

Dr. Landon said that Cassie
would have a scholarship.

She said they wanted children
like Cassie for diversity.

That she would be doing the school a favor
by going there.

It sounds like
Dr. Landon assured you

that Cassie would be admitted.

She said
with Cassie's test score

and her verbal
and reading ability,

she was going to get in.

So it must have come
as quite a shock

when Cassie was turned down.

Yeah, I was shocked.

I was damn angry is what I was.

Did you express that
anger to Dr. Landon?

You bet I did.

And how did she respond?

She told me that she was furious
at the whole thing.

She said it made her sick.

That the school pretended
to have such high ideals,

but when it came down to it,

they would rather take
a rich white kid

than a smart black kid.

What, if anything,

did she say she was going to do?

She said she was going to talk
to this Mr. Scofield.

She said he was the one
that turned Cassie down.

And if that didn't work,

she was going to go to the board and raise
a stink.

If that didn't work,

she said she was going to go
to the papers.

One more thing,
Mr. Waters.

What school is Cassie
going to attend now?

P.S. 197.

She's going to have to walk
through metal detectors.

She's going to have
40 kids in a class,

not enough reading textbooks

to go around.

They have to share.

A black child doesn't get in
to a prestigious institution.

It has to be something

underhanded that
kept her out?

In this case, yes.

Because she's entitled to
this expensive education?

As much as anyone else.

Really?

Well, then what about the white
kid who would be turned down

if your daughter were accepted?

He was less qualified.

Besides, it's not my concern.

No, of course,
it isn't.

You only want
what's owed to you.

Not me!

My child!

That's quite a temper
you've got there, Mr. Waters.

I feel sad for that girl,

but, uh, that's the way it goes.

The rich get richer.

My kid did fine
on that test they gave him.

Why shouldn't he get in?

Because the admissions director

thought there was
a better candidate.

Isn't it about time we stop
bending over backwards for...

You're referring

to minority candidates?

Look, I know
all about prejudice.

My job-- my line of work, uh,

let's just say I'm not accepted
in certain circles.

I wanted better than that
for my son.

Your son didn't
score as well

as Cassie Waters on
the entrance exam.

That doesn't bother you?

Hey, it wasn't me

who told them who to turn down.

I just wanted them
to accept Jared.

So... how did you feel

when they put him
on the waiting list?

I wasn't thrilled.

So what did you do?

I called that, uh,
Debra Landon.

She said, "I'm sorry,

it looks like we have more
qualified applicants."

You know, those kids
are five years old.

How the hell does she know that?

So I asked her, I said,
"Is there anything I can do?"

She laughed at me and she said,
"This is the Knowles school,

not some auction where the spot
goes to the highest bidder."

What did you do?

I had
a business associate

who knew someone in the school,

and, uh, he said
he could push a few buttons.

Who was this
business associate?

Bud Rush.

And whose buttons was
he supposed to push?

Oh, the headmaster,

Wyatt Scofield.

Was Mr. Rush going to help you

out of the kindness
of his heart?

He was paying

top dollar for cement,

and I was able to get him
a more reasonable price.

Because you knew his supplier, Frank
Scarpio.

Yeah, that's right.

Are you aware that Mr. Scarpio
was indicted, several times,

for price gouging?

It seems to me I might have
heard something about that.

And are you aware that he is
currently under investigation

along with members of
the Masucci crime family

for violating federal
RICO statutes?

Maybe.

So it certainly
would not have been

helpful to Mr. Scarpio's
legal position

if Debra Landon had
gone to the press

and told them

about your little agreement

with respect to the pricing
of Mr. Rush's cement, huh?

First of all, I was being bled dry.

I promised my investors

I'd bring the renovations
in at $27 million,

and between the cost of cement
and the delays in delivery,

it would have cost twice that.

And you would do anything
to rectify the situation.

If I wanted to
show a profit,

yes.

That's when Harvey Anchin
came to me with a proposition.

Help his kid get into school,

and my construction problems
would disappear.

How could I say no?

So what did you do?

Turned out the headmaster
of this school

lived in one of the
buildings I owned,

it was going co-op,
he wanted to buy.

I don't understand,
Mr. Rush.

As an insider, Mr. Scofield
is entitled by law

to purchase his own apartment,
isn't that true?

Of course.
If you could afford it.

Be he couldn't.

That's what he said.

So you gave it to him?

I paid for it

from the construction costs.

Part of doing business.

What would this particular
apartment go for

on the open market?

Million three.

So in exchange
for this apartment,

Mr. Scofield arranged
for Harvey Anchin's son

to be admitted to

the Knowles school.

Look, this is the way
the world works.

Maybe it's not right,
maybe it's not fair,

but there's nothing
illegal about it.

My mom shoved a box
of Crayolas in my pocket...

thanks...

a peanut butter and
jelly sandwich in my lunch box,

and sent me on my way.

I wonder how much
of this

has to do with their
kids' educations,

and how much with the stroking of their
egos.

I can't imagine the private
school worth killing for.

Or the apartment.

We're about to find out.

Scofield's taking the stand
in his own defense.

Debra was
a wonderful Admissions Director.

She cared passionately
about her job,

the school, the students.

But...

She'd held that position
for less than a year.

And you felt
that Jared Anchin

was a better candidate
than Cassie Waters.

Yes, I did.

All admissions are ultimately
at my discretion.

I know what Mr. McCoy
is trying to do here.

He's trying
to paint a picture

of some great conspiracy.

But it just wasn't
like that.

I accepted the student,

who, in my best judgment,

was more than qualified
to attend Knowles.

Did you kill Debra Landon?

Why would I?

Even if the Board thought I'd
received some peripheral benefit

from admitting Jared Anchin,

clearly my 25 years
of loyal service at the school

would have outweighed any
missteps I may have made.

Thank you.

A million-dollar apartment
is just a peripheral benefit?

Well, in our
world, it is.

I'll tell you what.

In my world,
it's called a bribe.

In ours, it is a gift.

A gift is given

without consideration,
Mr. Scofield.

There is no quid pro quo.

But you received an apartment

in exchange for admitting
Jared Anchin

to the Knowles School.

Isn't that correct?

I received nothing
from Mr. Anchin.

Do you honestly think

the Board would see
that distinction?

Anyone who thinks

that the world doesn't work
with a nod and a wink,

and a handshake between friends
of friends, is plainly naive.

I guess
that includes

Mr. Waters and his daughter.

Well, I
wouldn't know.

And Debra Landon.

Well, yes.

That's why
she accused you

of compromising
the integrity

of the admissions
process.

Debra tended to be
overly dramatic.

Still...

being accused by one
of your peers...

She was not a peer.

She was not part
of your world.

That's right.
She worked for you.

Yes.

Still, it must have been
disconcerting.

To be honest
with you,

I didn't give it
a second thought.

And I'm sure the Board
wouldn't either.

Because of your years
of loyal service?

Yes.

And how much is that loyalty
worth on a yearly basis?

Please, Mr. Scofield,
answer the question.

What is your annual salary?

$60,000.

Roughly the equivalent
of three kindergarten tuitions.

Sounds like you really weren't
part of their world either.

All those impressionable
young minds

that you molded
over the years,

minds that went on
to Princeton, Harvard,

Yale, and law school,
medical school, or Wall Street,

where they got to pay $20,000
a year to send

their kids
to kindergarten?

Don't you think it's ironic
that they owe it all to a man

who couldn't even afford
to purchase his own apartment?

Maybe they were
just too busy

winking and nodding
and shaking the hands

of friends of friends
to worry

about the man behind the men.

Or, on the other hand, perhaps

they just looked at you as
someone who worked for them.

Sort of the way you looked
at Debra Landon.

That school would be nothing
without me.

And they owe you.

Yes.

Yes.

Have you reached a verdict?

We have, your Honor.

How say you?

On the count of murder
in the second degree,

we find the defendant guilty.

Counsel to pick a date for
sentencing,

four to six weeks hence.

Scofield has been standing
over the oven for 25 years.

He thought it was about time
he got a taste of the pie.

Now Scofield's out
and Anchin's in.

That's going to be
a hard pill

for the parents at the Knowles School to
swallow.

Oh, they'll get over it.

Once they forget about
where his money came from.

It's the American way.

Yesterday's robber baron is tomorrow's
philanthropist.

What you're really trying to say
is cash trumps merit every time.

And twice on Sundays.

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