All language subtitles for Murder.In.The.First.S03E09

Believe me when I tell you

I'm making it a personal crusade
to put you behind bars.

If you think you can get away with this,

you don't know me at all.

I've already assigned a new prosecutor.

Male.

We're re-filing charges against you.

It'll be the case that ends your career.

You barged into my office
so you could threaten me?

Well, it's not a threat.

It's a fact.

You just told me I have nothing to lose.

Naturally, I'll use every tactic I know

to stay a free man as long as I can.

Months of news stories

about the sex scandal going on
right under your nose,

and you couldn't even smell it.

Your top attorney, Alan, your protegee,

sexually involved with the defendant?

How did you let this happen?

Oh.

Would you... Do you want me to zoom in?

Mm, that's not really
Melissa's best angle.

Look!

The two of you...

are a disgrace to the profession.

You'll be begging me to plead
to a no-time misdemeanor

just to take yourself out of the news.

I'll take my chances.

And then, you'll lose in court.

Because Cassie was driving the car.

The number-one lie from DUI attorneys...

My client wasn't driving.

I'm surprised you waited
this long to try it out.

This is a no-win case for you, Alan.

You re-file against me,

I will testify
that Cassie was driving the car.

You file against her,

she'll testify
that I was driving the car.

It's a classic he-said,
she-said situation.

Oh.

Shame on you...

for so much.

Well...

Desperate times, desperate measures.

No jury will convict me, Alan.
And you know it.

We'll see.

I can't save you from yourself.

Melissa.

My office, please.

Tell me you're not reconsidering.

There's a lack of physical
evidence in the case.

Except, of course,
for your own involvement.

In a public restroom?

With Siletti?

I should have disclosed to you,
but I saw a winnable case.

No, you saw a case

that would fast-track
your career by five years.

And protect yours.

You wanted him out of the way, Alan.

So re-file against him
and convict him as charged.

We both know he's guilty.

And he's going to skate
because of you, Melissa.

That's on you.

If you haven't already started
cleaning out your office,

you should.

- You're firing me.
- No.

You're resigning.

I'll issue a statement on your
behalf at the end of the day.

There are extra boxes in the file room.

You know...

for a pretty woman,

you're not very photogenic,

especially in profile.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com

- What's this guy's name?
- Uh, Hal Woodward.

He is the barber that led Billy James

to the car that he got murdered in.

His grandson was Billy's lawyer.

- Right.
- He's a family friend,

good guy, old-school.
He's the one who called us.

Billy's grandma obviously wasn't
gonna come in here by herself,

- so...
- He wouldn't tell you why?

Unh-unh. Just that he had
to bring us something.

Oh, something, anything,
is better than nothing

at this point.

I hate smart criminals.

- They make us work too hard.
- Yeah.

Luckily, there are so few of them.

Well, they're late.

They're here.

Thank you.

This, um...

This came in the mail.

It's Billy's wallet.

Who sent this to you?

Good Samaritan.

Somebody must have found it,
dropped it in a mailbox.

The post office delivered to
the address on Billy's license.

There's still a few good people
left in the world.

There's a key inside

that Rainelle don't know what it's for.

But I said to her, something important,

for Billy to carry it around.

I said we need to bring in the
whole wallet, just like it came.

- Mm-hmm.
- I-I took one thing, though.

I found a tatty old photo of him
and Normandy together.

So I-I kept that for myself.

My two boys.

My two dead boys.

We'll get the wallet back to you
as soon as we can, Ms. James.

Thank you for bringing it in.

Find out who killed my grandson,
you hear?

Make sure you do that.

Yes, ma'am.

Thank you.

Okay.

Mr. Billy James.

One driver's license.

No credit cards or ATM.

No cash.

- To make it look like a robbery.
- Right.

Where the hell's this key
they were talking about?

Uh...

Here we go.

It's a safe deposit box key.

Mm-hmm.

All right, can you find
out where Billy did his banking?

Ask me something hard, why don't you?

So is that a yes?

I still have all his banking records

from when he was on the run.

It won't tell us which branch
he used, but let's see.

Here we go. The bank is
First National Pacific.

How many branches are in the Bay Area?

Mm, 25.

I can at least tell you
where he opened his account.

All right, thanks, Keef.
You're the best.

I try.

Inspectors!

Excuse the wait. How can I help?

Uh...

Sorry!

Long night with the boyfriend.
Don't ask.

Right. Uh, Miss Gardner,

uh, we're looking
to open a safe deposit box,

- please?
- They say they love you,

that they want to be yours forever,

but then you go through their phone,

and you see they've been texting
their ex-girlfriend.

The guy doesn't even share the rent.

What is it with men?

Uh...

I don't know.

Men can be dogs.

But we still need you
to open up box 1220.

This isn't from one of our boxes.

Our branch doesn't use this type of key.

- What about a different branch?
- Maybe,

but you need to go to each
branch and show them the key.

Wait, so each branch
has a different key?

Banks change names. They get
acquired by other banks.

Some fold. And when that happens,

they don't reissue keys to all
their existing customers.

It's too complicated.

This key could be for a box
at any branch of any bank.

I'm sorry.

You want all the names

of all the banks in the entire Bay Area?

That will be a long list.

Plus the other 24 FNP branches
that we want to check out.

Well, we can't canvass every bank, so...

I could run a proximity search

based on Billy's permanent address.

His grandma's house. Yeah, do that.

There are more than 75 banks
in a 5-mile radius.

Okay. Well, take a picture of the key

and e-mail it to all of them.

Somebody's got to recognize it.

Tucker, McCart, Wireman, Clay & Chang.

I'll transfer.

Tucker, McCart, Wireman, Clay & Chang.

Look at you, you smart son of a bitch.

- I'm sorry. He's not in.
- Unbelievable.

- Would you like his voicemail?
- Come on.

Let's go talk in my office.

Just remarkable work, the way
you played the prosecutor.

Man, that was a thing of beauty.

I wouldn't call it "played," per se.

I advised my counsel

on which legal strategy
would be best follow.

The photo evidence on your phone helped.

You heard about that.

There's hardly any secrets
in the Hall of Justice.

She should've just let you
plead to a misdemeanor

and saved both your careers.

Overreaching, man... It's a curse.

Did you just invite me here

to, uh, pat me on the back?

I convinced the executive
committee to renew our offer.

You ready to change sides?

Ah.

What's this?

An inducement.

A signing bonus?

You got a lot of balls, Mario.

You tell the executive committee
balls cost.

I'll wait here.

- You don't think so?
- I don't think.

- Hey.
- Hey.

Hey. So I've heard from
like a dozen banks so far.

Not one of them recognizes your key,

which I think is predictive.

We could wait to hear back
from all of them.

- Or?
- Or I could break my rule

about zero communication with an ex.

To solve a double homicide?

A good reason doesn't make it easy.

Sorry.

Lana Decker is a master
locksmith in Berkeley.

She knows everything there
is to know about keys.

All right.

She's also the one that I let get away.

- Hmm.
- She wanted to settle down,

and I wasn't ready for her.

- All about the timing, right?
- Mm-hmm.

Right.

Definitely a safe deposit box,
by the shape and thickness.

Right, well, Kami said
she hadn't found anywhere

that recognized it yet, so...

She's not perfect.

Nobody is.

Personally, I'd never put
something important in a bank.

Way too on the grid for me.

What's the alternative?

A private vault.

Totally anonymous, no SSNs on file,

better security, cheaper.
What's not to like?

Well, where would you find one of these?

- Are they still around?
- I know of one in Oakland

that took over a chapter-11 bank
a few years back,

so this type of key would make sense.

Kami said you'd know everything
there is to know about keys.

She broke my heart.

- Did she tell you that?
- Well, she misses you.

Not enough to call me.

Well, what if she did?

I'd love to hear her voice.

Okay.

Uh, uh, sorry to interrupt.
Where can I find

one of these vaults in Oakland
that you're speaking of?

They have an iris scan, palm geometry,

fingerprint reader, full biometrics.

And, apparently, old-fashioned keys.

- That's weird.
- It's not the box that matters.

It's the infrastructure around it.

Ask for Janko.

Maybe he'll like you.

I'll tell Keefer you said hi.

- Thank you.
- Thanks.

Final bill...

Paid in full.

Wouldn't want the lights
to turn off this month.

You know, you could have just...
mailed it.

I could have.

I took a new job.

Frank Tucker's firm.

Signing bonus, name on the door.

Yeah, your own private toilet
with a solid-gold seat.

Where are you going with this, Mario?

Are you jealous?

Yeah, bitterly.

Uh-huh. Why aren't you
staying on as a D.A.?

I-I thought you wanted
to, you know, clear your name,

get back on the whole political track.

Well, sometimes it's best
to stop and reassess

and adjust your strategy.
You know, the supreme art of war

is to subdue the enemy without fighting.

Well, this isn't ancient China,

and you ain't Sun Tsu.

And there doesn't always
have to be an enemy, Mario.

Therein lies the difference
between us, Al.

And you did a lot of damage

to save your own sorry ass.

You derailed Melissa Danson's career.

You ruined the A.G.'s reputation.

And then you forced your wife
to humiliate herself

in public and on the record,

and made me look like an idiot,

played by my own client.

You are a shameless prick, Mario.

We do what we can with what we have.

I won.

Well,

technically, you won.

Please don't ever call me again.

Oh, Mr. Siletti?

Don't forget how this all happened.

It was the power of the vision board

that helped you to rise like a phoenix.

No, it wasn't.

Is this key to one of your boxes?

Maybe, maybe not.

Keys can look alike.

Okay, well, do you have a box
numbered 1220?

People come to the private vault

because they don't trust the banks,

they don't trust the government,

and they don't trust the cops.

I know how they feel.

Janko, we have reason to believe

that the box-holder for this key
was a murder victim.

May the soul rest in peace.

We're trying to solve a homicide,

not invade anyone's privacy.

Look, we can come back
here with a search warrant, okay?

I don't know how good
that would be for business.

And I'm guessing you wouldn't
want us to run your name

though our database
just in case we found out

that you were less than a model citizen.

In my country,

police threats leave teeth on the floor.

Welcome to America.

No one gets into our vault

without hand scan
and fingerprint confirmation.

Plus iris recognition.

State-of-the-art security.

Sounds like an ad.

It is the ad.

Wait, where you going?

I never look inside.

All right.

See what we got.

So you don't know who rented the box.

Totally anonymous. No IDs,

no Social Security numbers, no names.

Here, you're just a box number.
And we're proud of the privacy.

Okay, well, privacy ends at death, so...

Okay, so when was the last time

"Box Number 1220" entered the vault?

May 17th.

Okay. Thanks for your cooperation.

America... land of the free.

My ass.

All right, so, Billy accessed the box

the afternoon
that Normandy was murdered.

That was May 17.

And took out whatever was in that.

- 'Cause otherwise, why go?
- Exactly.

- The cash when we grabbed him?
- The gun?

- Or both?
- Or something else.

That wasn't on him at booking.

- Something he his somewhere?
- Or gave someone.

Who'd Billy see between killing
Normandy and getting killed?

- His grandma.
- The barber.

Ooh, his lawyer... the barber's
grandson, Nathan Woodward.

Remember, he was at
the press conference with Billy.

He said, "Innocence doesn't keep
black men alive in America."

- Mm.
- Referring to me.

Mm, Yeah, 2623 Grand Avenue, Oakland,

in case you want to hit it.

Inspector Mulligan.

Yeah. Louise is my daughter.

What?

Okay, I'll, uh... I'll come
pick her up right now.

Thanks. I appreciate the call, officer.

What's up? Everything okay?

No, not really. Instead of
going to summer school today,

Louise decided to go shoplift
makeup with her friends.

She's down at C.A.R.C.
being processed right now.

Oh, I'm sorry.

She's turning into me
when I was her age.

Angry kid with an attitude,
making the same mistakes I did.

Hey, I'll take care of Woodward.
You go take care of Louise.

All right. Thank you.

Yep.

Where's my mom?

She'll be here.

- All right, Louise, let's go.
- I can go?

Yeah, you're lucky I didn't
make you wait here all night.

I didn't steal anything, Mom.

I don't want to hear it.
Get your stuff. Let's go.

It was Sophie's idea!

All I did was talk to the sales lady.

Sophie and Sarah took the makeup!

- Stop moving your lips.
- If your mom weren't a cop,

there'd be charges against all of you.

- Do you understand?
- We're only 12!

Mm-hmm. Old enough
to make bad decisions.

Thank you, Nanette.

You have kids, Roberts?

Not yet.

Well, don't rush it.

I hear that.

I hope I never see you again, Louise.

- Mom, I didn't steal...
- Stop.

You're a thief, and I'm ashamed of you.

It's a very simple question,
Mr. Woodward.

Did Billy James give you anything

between May 17th
and the day he was murdered?

I can't answer that.
Attorney-client privilege.

Well, your client is dead and buried.

Privilege survives death.

Swidler and Berlin v. United States.

Okay, that's fine,

but I have two open homicides
I'm trying to solve here.

Lizzie Borden took an axe

and gave her mother 40 whacks.

And when she saw what she had done,

she gave her father 41...

in 1892. And her attorney's law firm

is still protecting her files
as confidential to this day.

Client's dead, attorney's dead,
privilege lives on.

Look, Billy was your friend
way before he was a client,

way before you even thought
about being a lawyer, so...

Look, I know he gave you something,

or you wouldn't
be reciting nursery rhymes.

You just would have said no.

You're entitled to your opinion,
Inspector.

That's all it is.

Are we finished?

No wonder everybody hates lawyers.

Not as much as they hate cops.

All right. So sit down

and do your homework for tomorrow, okay?

- What if I have to pee?
- Well, knock on the door.

Maybe someone will hear you.
I got to go back to work.

You're locking me in here?

Look, think about it as jail

without the juvenile record, okay?

You don't even want to hear my side?

I've heard enough.

Ugh!

_

Reyes Law, personal injury attorneys.

If you don't win, you don't pay.

Mr. Siletti, Manuel Reyes, come on in.

Ana. _

_

It's impressive.

Thank you.

Oh, you can put your pen down,
Mr. Reyes.

I didn't come here to negotiate.

Mr. Ramirez will not be getting
his picture on your wall.

Your mistrial
doesn't affect our lawsuit.

Well, the A.G.'s office

has decided not to re-file
charges against me.

And O.J. was acquitted. So?

- The civil jury got it right.
- Well, O.J. was a U.S. citizen.

Your client snuck across
the border 15 years ago.

He has been using fake names

and fake Social Security numbers
ever since

to take jobs away from people
who respect and obey the law,

when he bothers working at all.

San Francisco is a sanctuary city.

And that won't protect
Mr. Ramirez from federal action.

Here's how I see it.

Option "A," your client drops
the civil suit against me,

and life goes on as he knows it.

Option "B," my friends at I.C.E.

somehow learn of your client's
undocumented status.

Option "B" doesn't end well for him.

This is extortion.

I came here as a professional courtesy.

I didn't have to tell you.

Now, I'm sorry about
the "no gana, no paga."

But you've done well for yourself.

What's that, 1/3 of every pay out?

I'll confer with my client.

His children just lost their mother.

Don't let him make this worse

by costing them their father, too.

You can walk yourself out, sir.

Leverage isn't extortion.

Or every case in every court
would go to trial.

Nathan Woodward's got a secret
he's not telling.

There's no way we can force him.

Wait, did you take Louise home?

I locked her in an interrogation room.

Wait, what?

Well, I couldn't
leave her at home alone.

I wasn't gonna call my parents.
I couldn't find a babysitter.

So at least I know if she's
in there, she's safe, right?

Okay, uh...

Do you mind if I talk to her?

Go ahead. Feel my pain.

- You sure?
- Do it.

Okay.

How we doing, Lou?

How do you stand her?
She's such a bitch.

Ooh, easy, easy.

You know she loves you, right?
She's just, uh...

She just worries about you.

She just worries
that I'll mess up her schedule.

I try to stay out of her way.

You do?

Like to... uh, like today?

I knew you'd take her side.

I don't want to talk to you.

Okay.

Where are you going?

We have nothing new
to talk about, Mario.

Well, you're wrong.

I just came from the Mayor's office,

where I strongly recommended

that you continue as acting D.A.
until the next election.

He agreed.

Well, that wasn't necessary.

You're welcome.

So why would you do this for me?

I just... I-I think you're
the right attorney for the job,

Marty. I respect you.

I appreciate your testimony for me.

You know, one good turn
deserves another.

No.

You're thinking this will buy
juice for your future clients

for when you start working
the other side of the aisle.

Sorry.

Not from me, not from this office.

Of course not!

Congratulations, Marty.

I'll see you in court.

So how long you planning on
leaving, uh, Louise

in the interrogation room?

Hmm, till the end of the day,
when I'm ready to go home.

- No food?
- She won't starve to death.

Well, is it cool

if I bring her a sandwich
from the machine?

All right. Well, she hates mustard.

What if I bring her with me

and let her choose
what she wants to eat?

All right, and then you can
let her use the restroom.

Once.

Yeah, you're tough.

Mm. Obviously not tough enough.

I tried to tell her it wasn't my idea,

but she doesn't want to hear it.

Okay, well, I do.

Why don't you tell me?

Okay.

I was hanging out with Sophie and Sarah.

I'm not supposed to see Sophie
because I borrowed her vape,

and my mom found it in my bag.

- Mm.
- E-smoke isn't like smoking.

I know, right?

I mean, well, except for
the nicotine, but...

Go ahead, go ahead. You guys are
hanging out together, and...?

And we decided to go shopping.

We were gonna pay for the stuff,
but then we didn't.

Mm-hmm. Oh. How come?

I don't know.
I was talking to the sales lady

about how to, like, put on eye makeup

- 'cause my mom won't show me.
- Right.

And then we kind of just,
you know, left.

Right. So was it your job
to distract the sales lady?

Maybe.

But it wasn't, like, my idea.

No, no, you were just
kind of going along, right?

My mom thinks I'm a pain in the ass.

Well, you are.

I mean, so was I.

- So was I.
- Yeah, right.

No, for real.
Yeah, I was just about your age

when I started looking for trouble.

Ah, yeah.

I got bad grades.

Chose bad friends.

I think I actually held the record

for the most detentions back in the day.

What for?

Oh, man. Mouthing off,

cutting class... everything.

- You cut class?
- Mm-hmm!

Yeah, I cut class, a lot.

It was cool, but also scary.

It... made me feel free, you know?

Then some of the older kids saw me,

asked me to run with them,
join their set.

It was real exciting until...

they asked me to prove how down I was.

You know, and they asked me
to do stuff I didn't like.

What?

Well, they asked me to jack somebody.

Did you?

What do you think?

I don't think so.

No, you're right.

Only because...

I heard this little voice in my head

that told me
I was about to... to go down

a wrong-way, one-way road.

And that voice belonged to my mom.

She raised me all on her own,
just like your mom.

Man, was she strict.

I couldn't do anything.

This, that, couldn't go anywhere.

She was the meanest mom on the block...

but she was the best.

Because she cared.

Well...

I miss her every day.

Oh.

I was 18.

It was a long time ago.

Who took care of you?

Who t... uh, Uncle Sam.

The Army.

The Army made sure I was right.

So...

Listen to your mom's voice
in your head, all right?

She knows her shit.

When's she gonna take me home?

Soon, all right?

Here, eat.

How'd it go?

She's, uh... She's ready to leave.

I'm not looking forward to the
fight we're gonna have to have.

She's a good kid, Hildy.

Mm, she scares me to death.

We used to be best friends.

Now I feel like I'm a cop,
even when I'm off-duty.

All right. What do you want
to do about Nathan Woodward?

Okay, I got, uh... I got
one play for tomorrow,

but it's a long-shot, so...

Why don't you take Louise home?

I'll finish up all this paperwork.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah, I'm good.

- Have a good night.
- All right.

Don't work too late.

Okay.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

I told you no phone,
no iPad for a week, okay?

How am I supposed to do homework?

By actually doing your homework,
not Googling the answers.

Louise?!

Facebook is not homework, okay?

God, you can't stop lying.

- Neither can you!
- What is that supposed to mean?

I know about you and Terry.

He's not just your partner,
he's your boyfriend!

You have sex!

Louise!

Go away.

Why did you say that about Terry?

- I'm not stupid.
- I know you're not.

It's just so totally obvious
about you and him.

I mean, who gives a kid an iPad

unless he's got something going
with her mom?

How do you feel about that?

I know you and Dad are a bad idea.

Honey, you are the only thing

that your dad and I ever got right.

I'm grateful to him for you.

So... Do you love Terry?

Yeah, I do.

But we're not together
like that anymore.

You broke up already?

No. We're still friends.

We're still partners.

It's just...

not more than that.

Too bad.

Why, you like him?

Yeah.

I feel like he gets me.

And I don't?

Thanks a lot.

No, it's just Terry doesn't treat me

like I'm still a little kid,
and I'm not, Mom.

Okay.

What happened?

With us?

Um...

Well, we wanted to be together.

But sometimes

life doesn't care about what you want,

you know?

And making the right choice
can be really hard,

like you found out today when
your friends talked you into

stealing from that store, right?

- Mom...
- I know, I know.

We agreed in the car, we're not
gonna talk about it anymore.

It's fine.

I didn't tell you the truth in the car.

What do you mean?

They didn't talk me into it.

It was my idea. I planned it.

Why?

To see if they'd do it.

So you put all your friends at risk?

Well, you fixed things.

So that was your backup plan?

That I would get you out of it?

God, you're breaking
my heart here, Louise.

I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry, Mom.

How am I supposed to believe you?

Because it's true.

I didn't have to tell you the truth.

I could have just kept lying.

But I'm trying to do what's right.

Okay. Okay, come here.

I know you are,

all right? I know you are.

So you and the wife just
sit there, not saying a word?

We just sit there.

Since when?

Since right after
our youngest moved out.

Been months now.

You've got the empty-nest blues, my man.

Happens to the best of us.

Uh, what do we do?

Start over again with each other.

You know, pay attention to her.

I acted like that,

she'd just think I got something
going on on the side.

No, no. Not happening. Well,
maybe you should get yourself

a little something on the side.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

- Trying to get me killed?
- Don't say that to him.

- No, don't put that in his mind.
- I'm trying to help him!

Morning, fellas. Mr. Woodward.

Morning. Um...

What can I do for you, Inspector?

Uh, do you mind
if I take you out for breakfast?

Did you hear about the, uh...

the tribute that they're doing
for Normandy?

I read about it in the paper last week.

Like a memorial patch on a jersey

does a damn thing.

Yeah, well, you know...

It's a way to keep the spirit alive.

It's a way for them
to sell more jerseys.

They make money even off the dead.

- Mm.
- But...

You're not buying my breakfast
to talk about the NFL.

- Oh, no.
- No, sir, I'm not.

We actually... We need your help.

I can't tell you what I don't know.

Well, your grandson,
we think he may have

some information
that could lead us to...

to Billy's killer.

Then you should be having
breakfast with him.

As you know, it goes against
his principles to, uh...

to cooperate with the police.

So you... you want me
to lean on my grandson

in exchange for a biscuit
and a couple of eggs?

- Come on, man!
- Well, when you put it

- like that...
- Yeah, yeah.

Yes.

Oh, wow. What kind of budget
they give you down there?

Oh, man, you're killing me.

Well, I figure we all have, uh...

We all have something in common,
you, me, and him.

We care about the truth.

You know, w-whatever it may be.

I could walk you in.

You are something shameless,
using him like this.

To try to manipulate me
into violating legal ethics.

I'm sitting right here, Nathan.

Don't talk around me
like I'm an old fool.

If you could be of any help, you
owe it to Rainelle to speak up.

That woman's been feeding you
every Sunday

since you were old enough to walk.

Rainelle understands who this man is.

He shot an unarmed brother dead.

I'm not trying to change
your mind about the police.

But this is personal.

Whatever Billy did
is already over and done.

And God will handle him.

What was done to Billy, though,

that's on this side of the compass.

Any way you can help find his killer,

you owe it to Rainelle,

and to Billy.

You hearing me?

The truth will set you free?

You could do worse than quote the Bible.

You know what's right.

This came in the mail the day
after Normandy was killed.

"From Billy James, to Billy James.

Care of Nathan Woodward."

It's a federal offense
to open someone else's mail.

I locked it in a file cabinet
for safekeeping.

After Billy was arrested,

he instructed me to hold onto it for him.
You know what's inside?

I didn't ask him, and he didn't tell me.

Thank you, Mr. Woodward.

Thank my grandfather.

Hey, so, Nathan Woodward
changed his mind.

Oh, you miracle worker.

Well, it doesn't feel
heavy enough to be a weapon.

- Mnh-mnh.
- Let's see what's inside.

Yeah.

Hey, did you say something
to Louise about us?

What? No, of course not.

Okay, 'cause she threw it
in my face last night, so...

How could she ever know
something like that?

iPad. Kids are smarter than they look.

Well, how does she feel?

Just sad it's over.

Well, so am I.

Okay. Jesus.

It's like an Egyptian mummy.

Mm.

Okay.

Mm, power it up.

Nothing.

It's out of juice.

We need Keefer.

Hey, thanks for putting in
a good word for me with Lana.

Mm, hope I didn't overstep.

We have a date this weekend. Who knows?

So, this phone is protected
by a six-digit passcode.

1 million possible combinations,

instead of 10,000
like the four-digit version,

which would have been bad enough.

Right, but you can do anything, so...

Does this look like NSA,
CIA, DOD, FBI resources?

Here's why flattery fails.

If I enter the wrong passcode
10 consecutive times,

the phone permanently erases
all of its data,

making it a $400 paperweight
as far as you're concerned.

Right, but why can't we recreate
Billy's fingerprint

to unlock the touch pad,

I mean, using his records and a
3-D printer? Wouldn't that work?

Sure, except once a phone
has been turned off

or locked for more than 48 hours
or drained the battery,

it requires a passcode.

This one was off and locked and dead.

Of course. So the thing
basically is a paperweight.

I could try the two most common
six-digit passcodes...

123456, and...

- 654321.
- 654321.

For real?

- People have no imagination.
- Go for it.

Oh, man.

- We still have eight tries left.
- And still no insight.

I mean, we don't even know
if it's Billy's phone.

We just know it was in his possession.
I can help you with that.

I could trace the serial number
off the back of the phone

and find out where and when it was sold.

That's easy.

All right, do it.

No problem.
Hi. Welcome to Chestnut Connect.

- May I help you?
- Hey, Greg.

- You're the manager, yeah?
- I am.

SFPD, Homicide.

We need to know who bought the
phone with this serial number.

Wait, so the woman who called
was telling me the truth?

Sorry, she just didn't sound like a cop.

Uh...

What does a-a cop sound like?
I'm... I'm just curious.

Oh, n... I wasn't, um, saying
that because she's a woman.

Right, right. I mean,
personally, I'm a feminist.

Right, me, too.
How's that serial number coming,

- there, Greg?
- Uh, right.

It's, um... yeah, no,
I'm just trying to explain

that you can't believe everyone who
calls and says that they're a cop.

I mean, it could be a-a
pissed-off wife or a girlfriend.

Or, you know, a-a husband.

- Totally, yeah.
- Yeah.

- Mm...
- How we doing?

Oh. Yeah.

Don't stop there, Greg.

Well, it's 1 of the 10 phones

that I sold last Christmas
to Alicia Barnes.

Synced & corrected by -robtor-
www.addic7ed.com