All language subtitles for The.Intent.2016.HDRip.XViD-ETRG

In New York City's
war on crime,

the worst criminal offenders
are pursued

by the detectives
of the Major Case Squad.

These are their stories.

Taking the photographs
made me understand

how my mother
helped these people.

I was always
afraid of hospitals,

but now I want
to be a trauma doctor.

Very good,
Nichelle.

Photography can make us
more sensitive to our fears.

That's how we heal
the scars of the past.

Mr. Heltman, considering
your photos exploit women,

do you believe you're the best
role model for young people?

Nichelle, this is what
you say to critics.

Art demands no explanation.

Gretta, I need you
to stop feeling so much.

Somebody powder her off.
Five minutes!

Martin, can I get some...

I found this on top of your bag.

Advertise your product or brand here
contact www.OpenSubtitles.org today

Please call my wife.

Tell her I can't be at
Pavel's opening tonight.

Now let's get this shot
before we all die of old age!

Everyone else,
get out!

I'm fine!

Just give me a moment!

You look tired.

Haven't you slept?

You want some
breakfast?

Hannah, I want
to go home.

Home? This is our home.

You mean to Germany?

When?
Now.

Today. It's finished for me here.

But I was looking...
Hannah, please. Please.

Why do you
put up with him?

Your father is an artist.

That's just
his pretext.

He owes us
an explanation.

And I'll get one.

Absolutely not! I refuse
to become involved with...

Ugh! You wouldn't do that.

Okay, yes. I'll come.

Are you sure you want to
give these to the museum?

It's time to let them go.

I have to pick up something
from the studio. I'll be back.

Central, we got a vehicle
accident with a 10-54,

southbound on the
West Side Highway.

At 23rd Street. This
guy flew right past me

weaving all
over the place.

I saw the whole thing.
He never even hit his brakes.

We estimate his rate
of speed at 60 miles per hour.

No skid marks.

One of my guys said that Mr.
Heltman was some kind of shutterbug?

Famous one.
Fashion magazines.

Women in leather
bikinis and stilettos.

He should've been able to
steer, even in handcuffs,

if he wasn't
drunk or stoned.

I don't smell alcohol.

He didn't get that
from hitting the door.

There's blood
on the headrest.

He might have been injured
before the accident.

There's some kind
of foam residue on this.

Piece of wood was wedged
against the accelerator.

His engine was racing.

Popped the emergency brake
and off he went.

With that head wound, he might
have been barely conscious.

As murders go,
it's pretty flashy.

Could be the point.

Did your husband do that often,
go out at night to his studio?

Yes, he went out maybe
two or three times

a week to work
in the darkroom.

What difference does it make?
He had a car accident.

We think that there
was another party involved.

He was handcuffed.

And someone had
tampered with the car.

Handcuffed?

Who would do that?
Who would hurt Gerhardt?

We're sorry to ask, but could he
have been involved with someone?

My father lived
like he had no family.

Daniel, that's not true.

I understood
my husband's needs,

but his work was
his only mistress.

His photography
celebrates strong women.

He wasn't tolerant of weakness,

of people who let
themselves be victimized.

You're moving?

My father was taking
my mother back to Germany.

This decision was recent?

Two nights ago.

He came home late and
said he was finished here.

With what,
his work?

He didn't explain.

Maybe it was the city.
He was never comfortable.

These uniforms...

They're from
concentration camps?

Gerhardt's parents
were survivors.

When he talked about people who
let themselves be victimized,

he didn't include
his parents, did he?

He was very angry that people would
let such a thing happen to them.

This box, it's marked
"Holocaust Museum. "

He was giving these away?

I'm keeping them now.

I want to hold onto
as much of him as I can.

I'm pretty sure he wasn't here that
night. He usually leaves a mess.

What about
this cot?

It was like that
when I came in.

Did it
get much use?

Gerhardt had his flings,
but he was not a romantic.

That's my desk. When can
I get my stuff out of here?

We'll be done
by tomorrow.

He told his wife he wanted
to move back to Germany.

Did he talk
to you about that?

Briefly.

You expected it.
Your r�sum�?

Gerhardt was
losing his edge.

His work had
become mechanical.

Sounds like he got bored,
maybe needed a little jolt.

Two nights ago, when he decided
to move, do you know where he was?

They were supposed to go to an
opening, but he got a note and bailed.

We were doing a shoot
in Cooper Square.

Somebody left a note
on his shooting bag.

What was in the note?

I don't know. He never let me see them.

Them? It happened before?

Three times over
the last five months.

I've never seen
who leaves them.

No note.

Looks like ash
from a fire.

Any chance you picked
this up on the shoot?

No. The bag was on his chair.
It never touched the ground.

There's drive-in
access to his studio

all the way up
to the 11th floor.

Heltman always
drove his car up,

but there's no record he
used his keycard that night.

There's a lot of leather
in Mr. Heltman's photos.

He into anything rough?
Not according to his wife.

And there were no
marks on his body,

just the wounds
from the accident.

And this, on the
left side of his head.

This cross-hatching, he got whacked

by somebody swinging
a piece of rebar.

You check any other angles?
Money problems?

Maybe somebody got
offended by his photos?

His finances
are spotless.

And the last angry letter
he got was five years ago.

That was the problem.
He stopped being provocative.

He came to a creative dead end,
started making life-changing decisions.

The foam on the two-by-four
is fire-suppression foam

used by the
fire department.

The two-by-four came
from the scene of a fire,

same as the ash on the bag
he had the night before.

He might've been at the
same place both nights.

The ash was found
to contain cobalt.

Now, cobalt is used as a
drying catalyst in printing.

Printing company?

Check with the
fire department.

Start with fires this
year in all five boroughs.

Detective,
we've got tire prints.

Same make and model as on
Mr. Heltman's SUV over here.

We got some blood
mixed with ash here.

Someone made an effort to
cover it up. And there's this.

There's blood
and hair on this end.

All right,
good work.

We're going to need
a work-up in here.

Somebody got sick
in the bathroom.

They found a piece of rebar
with blood and hair on it.

He was attacked

and put back
in his car.

And they drove him to the
city for the big finale.

Whatever the attraction was here,

I hope he thought
it was worth it.

Makeup.

Putrane.

Decomp.
We need a cadaver dog.

There was definitely
a body on this couch.

Homer gave a strong alert, so I'd
say the decomp was well underway.

Twelve hours,
at least.

How recently
was the body here?

The fact that you picked
up the smell off the scarf,

I'd say pretty recent.

Thank you.
You, too, Homer.

A body. No wonder Gerhardt
wanted to get out of Dodge.

The scarf was worn by the
victim, probably a woman.

Maybe she died partying with
Gerhardt and one of his buddies.

He came back the next night
to get rid of the body,

they got into
an argument...

The note that Gerhardt
received, it was the fourth one.

Other parties?

Let's hope with happier
endings. Somebody bake a potato?

It's residue,
I don't know what it is.

A smell you can't identify.

Flash powder? No, no, no, Gerhardt
used electronic flash, strobe lights.

He was a technophile.

We found this tinfoil with residue
of magnesium and potassium chlorate.

Maybe he was experimenting with it
to get a special lighting effect.

It was found in an abandoned
building in Brooklyn,

along with evidence that your husband
was there before he was killed.

We also found a woman's
scarf, photographic makeup.

There might've been a model,
you know, a photo shoot.

No, no, no, Gerhardt would have told
me if he was working on something new.

Well, there might
have been other sessions.

We'll need to look at his
negatives and prints.

What about
the refrigerator?

I mean, don't photographers
keep film in the refrigerator?

Unexposed
film, not negatives.

Well, your father was using
unusual lighting techniques,

maybe he used
unusual film.

Does this look
unusual to you?

Um... Made in Germany.
You recognize these?

I never saw them. It's not
even a format Gerhardt used.

Well, I don't know
the manufacturer.

Have you ever
seen them before?

They went out of business.

They made photographic
supplies for the Nazis.

They used Jewish slaves
in their factories.

To make this film.

Well, sometimes artists use materials
with symbolic value, isn't that true?

Yeah, it's true.

Well, your father, he shot
in a burned-out building,

he used old lighting
techniques, maybe this film.

You can't think of what he photographed?

I have no idea.

Could it have something to do with
his parents in the concentration camps?

No! I never heard
of such a project.

I don't want to think about
this. You talk to them.

We don't know what my father was
doing. He kept so many secrets.

Excuse me, I'm going to
make sure she's all right.

And whatever he shot,
he'd keep it in a safe place.

This is old film, it's
probably very unstable.

The negative would be kept in a
climate-controlled environment.

Mmm. An archival
storage vault.

Got to be at least one in the city that
meets Gerhardt's exacting standards.

It's the
wrong size film.

Whose photos are these?

That's Kissel.
Andreas Kissel.

I think I found them.

The couch from the printing
company and the scarf.

Gerhardt hid them under
another name for a reason.

We're just not seeing why.

The assignment is to find
an exhibit of an artist

whose work you think will be
important 100 years from now.

Go. Have a nice weekend.

Excuse me? You're Gerhardt
Heltman's son, aren't you?

I just want to tell you how sorry I am.

Thank you.

I was wondering,

do you know when
we can expect

his latest work
to be exhibited?

I hear it's controversial.

I don't know anything
about it. Excuse me.

But you would be involved
in any exhibition.

I mean, you would
have an obligation

as an art historian,
as his son...

I told you, I don't know
what you're talking about.

The girl on the couch
is Marla Kelly.

Her parents reported her missing
the same day Gerhardt died.

It's a close match.

She's
a pretty girl.

None of these girls look
like professional models,

but Gerhardt knew how
to photograph them.

Unlike the women
in his other work,

here we have a sense
of vulnerability.

What's the matter?
You okay?

The eyes.

At first I thought
it was a lighting trick.

Discoloration.

Tache noire.

That's the whites of their eyes
turning brown from exposure to the air.

And they all have it.

They're all dead.

He killed them and then
took photos of them.

Can hold a pose for
hours and not complain.

The perfect models.

No. I don't know
any of these girls.

Gerhardt had nothing
to do with these photos.

The photos were stored under
the name Andreas Kissel.

Wasn't that
his grandfather?

But these poor
women are all wrong.

They're insubstantial.
This is not Gerhardt's work.

Maybe they're different because
the person who killed him

helped him take
these pictures.

They might have left a mark.
It might help us find him.

These marbles
in each photo.

The ones on the tile floor
here and in her hand,

you ever seen anything like
this in his work before?

Keep looking
at the photos.

You're remembering something?

People were always sending Gerhardt
samples of their work for his comments,

and there was a letter
he received last fall

with some sketches and a
proposal for a photo essay.

Uh... Just set them down
on the desk, please.

I don't see a letter.

It should be
with the sketches.

I don't understand.

Do you remember a name or
where the letter came from?

No. I would just show
Gerhardt the letters

and then he'd tell me if
he wanted to make contact.

That's how
it was with us.

You find
them inspiring?

No, no, not inspiring.

Familiar.

Detective magazines.

I remember my old man
having these when I was a kid.

Damsels in distress.
Popular theme.

And most men want
to rescue the damsel.

And then there are those who
don't want her rescued at all.

Sexual sadists who enjoy
depictions of captive women.

Somewhere in there,

Heltman and this other guy
had a meeting of the minds.

Except there's nothing to suggest
Heltman was a sexual sadist.

And in his photos,

he portrays women
sympathetically.

You feel for them.

In this guy's sketches,

the victims are objects of pleasure.

And judging by his style, he's young.

He's still forging his identity.

Any idea of where his victims
might have intersected with him?

Bars? Clubs?

All we know is all four women
were new in town, lived alone,

and all were reported
missing by a parent.

She was a shy girl.

But she didn't mind
doing things on her own.

Like going
to the opera?

She went to Lincoln Center two
days before she disappeared.

A Sunday matinee.

She loved it.

She was always telling me about
the different museums she'd been to,

the plays...

She was happy here.

She loved the arts.

Did she know any
artists or photographers?

No.

Excuse me.

One of the other
victims went to dance classes

two blocks from
Lincoln Center.

Here. Ellen Welpton, she took
a class Saturday afternoon,

three days before
she disappeared.

Well, Melissa Wiley, the
weekend before she disappeared,

she bought CDs from
a store on Columbus.

And Janet McBride.

She bought a movie ticket at
Lincoln Plaza on a Sunday afternoon.

So four victims were in the
same area of Columbus Avenue

on a weekend afternoon
before they disappeared.

No restaurant
or bar charges.

They might have met
him on the street.

Well, he would have needed
time to talk to them,

to gain their trust.

Columbus Avenue,
there are street vendors.

Mrs. Kelly.

Um...

What's in that tube?

A sketch of Marla.

I found it on her desk.

Two of the victims sent similar
sketches to their parents.

Another one had hers
out to be framed.

These portraits,
they take up to an half hour.

That's plenty of time
to chat up the victims,

find out if they're
single, live alone.

And once he had
one on the hook, he what?

Got in touch with Heltman,
set up a play date?

Two days later,
the women disappeared.

Latent and Forensics
have a look at these yet?

Still looking, but they're
all done by the same guy.

You can tell by the eyes, the
pie-shaped slices of light,

same size and placement
in all the sketches.

Well, then I know where to find
the two of you this weekend.

Tomorrow night? I might
be able to fit you in.

A photo exhibit? Sure.

You're pulling my leg,
all the way to the roof?

No. No, it sounds like
fun. I'll dress up.

Bye.

Guess what? You're eating
alone tomorrow night.

Hi. Are you busy?

No. Hey, have a seat.

Hi, I'm Jerry.

And because you're my first customer
after lunch, you get a discount.

Really? That's the
first nice thing

that's happened since
I've been in the city.

So you're visiting?

I just moved here
two weeks ago.

Is this for a husband
or a boyfriend?

No, no. No husband, no boyfriend.

It's for my mom
back in Boston.

So we make it nice
for Mom, then.

Hey, I hope your friends
don't mind waiting.

No one's waiting.

I just went to the
movies by myself.

So hard to meet people,
everybody's rushing around.

What?

Do I remind you of
somebody or something?

Somebody nice.

This portrait's off
to a great start.

Hey, do you mind
if I hang on to this

and take a photo
of it for my portfolio?

I could, you know, send it to you
later or just drop it by, or...

Hi. I really like
what you're doing.

It's very nice.
It's your eyes.

You know, it's like he has these,

you know, like,
slices of light.

Hey... Um...

It's almost as pretty
as the real thing.

I like that work
over there.

It's like those detective
magazines, you know?

The hand-drawn covers.

There's an illustrator,
Rudolph Belarski.

Yeah, I wouldn't know.

He wouldn't know, but he's
actually having an exhibit

at the museum
in Brooklyn.

That sounds interesting.

It's worth seeing.

You know, actually, your stuff
reminds me of another artist.

Margaret Brundage.

I always found
it strange, because

this woman would depict
other women as being

weak and defenseless.

That wasn't her style at all. Her
women were all vicious man-haters.

She never captured them with the
delicacy of a Belarski or a de Soto.

They portrayed the
female as she should be.

You mean dead?

Is that how you wanted
to portray me, Jerry?

So what is this? My
license expire or something?

We hope so.

We're going to need
to see some ID.

The license is issued
to a Jerry Summers.

I've got a Spencer Farnell.

And guess what?
You're both under arrest.

Jerry Summers is a street
artist I knew from art school.

He moved to
Santa Fe last year.

He already paid for his
license, so he gave it to me.

So now can he just get
arraigned and pay his fine?

You know how slowly
things move on the weekend.

We found these
in your wallet.

The McNab Institute
of Mortuary Science.

Sorry.

Phipps College
of Criminal Studies,

and a New York
Art Students Guild.

I had such an array of interests,
I had a hard time finding myself.

Have you found
yourself now?

I suppose not.

But, you know, I don't plan
on doing this work forever.

You're going to play
to your other strength,

picking up lonely women?

A man has to
nourish his soul.

What are these? Food?

Your fellow artists on Columbus
Avenue said you were there

the weekends before these
four girls disappeared.

Well, that means
they were there, too.

Any of them could have
drawn these sketches.

How do you feel about
photography, Spencer?

It's not my medium.

Because we thought
that these showed promise.

But to be fair, I mean, you did
have help from Gerhardt Heltman.

Find them exciting?

Or maybe Gerhardt
never let you see them.

This is the first time.

What?

Of course it's the first time.

I had nothing to do
with these photos.

I never met Gerhardt Heltman.

Spencer
did his homework.

He highlighted where Gerhardt
wrote about his parents

in the concentration camps
being the ultimate victims.

That and a murder confession
might get us an indictment.

Here's his inspiration.

They're well-thumbed, and he might have
gotten them from the original owner.

I hope this isn't his wish
list for future victims.

He's got them
arranged in groups.

Three blondes
with long hair,

two with short hair,
four brunettes

and three
gray-haired ladies.

He picked
specific types,

maybe corresponding
to people that he knows.

Spencer and his father?

He might be the
magazines' original owner.

Broken marbles.

Spencer told his artist buddies that
he worked part-time for a mortician.

Maybe he told Heltman
he could supply him

with bodies from
a mortuary to photograph.

Even if Heltman didn't know
the girls were being murdered,

why would he want to take pictures
of bodies in the first place?

You know,
his wife said that

he was intolerant of people who
let themselves be victimized.

This project might
have been a way of,

you know,
re-sensitizing himself.

Reconnecting to his parents.

I need the lab to
reprint these negatives.

I got Spencer's file
from Family Services.

He and his three sisters were
in and out of foster homes.

Parents were alcoholics,
left the kids on their own.

Three sisters,
older than Spencer?

One of them, present
whereabouts are unknown,

one's got multiple drug beefs,
currently living in Seattle,

and the third one's in Bedford
Hills, 6- to-18 for manslaughter.

What happened to his father?

Mother died four years
ago, liver disease.

Father was in a drunk-driving
accident almost 20 years ago.

We need to see
the rest of his family.

Spence was a good kid. Girls
used to give him a hard time.

We'd dog-pile on top of him.
His face would turn red.

It was funny.

Ma said he was a boy,
he could take it.

You like your brother,
we can tell.

Yeah, he wasn't like us.
He could hold a straight job,

talk to strangers
without getting in a fight.

You think that's
your dad's influence?

They were close, right?

Spence was like him.
You know, sensitive.

He was
good to Spence.

Bought him toys,
like marbles...

Yeah, like marbles.

You're smiling. Did you do
something to his marbles?

When Dad died, Spence wouldn't
stop crying like a baby,

so we got a hammer
and we smashed his marbles.

Shut him up.

We noticed some medical
records in his file.

When he was nine, he went
to the emergency room.

Somebody set
his hair on fire.

Oh, yeah, that was Sandy.
She threw matches at him.

And then he spent a week in the
hospital with food poisoning?

Oh, yeah, Patty.

Fried up bad meat
and made him eat it.

Another time he was brought in
with burns all over his body.

Grandma. She threw him in the
shower and turned on the hot water.

Oh, yeah? Doris, what
did you do to Spencer?

I used to play Bad Nurse.

Tie him down on Grandma's smelly
bed, put on my ma's nurse hat,

and then I'd beat
the crap out of him.

But, you know, like Ma
said, he could take it.

Hey, look, I got
to get back to work.

You see him, you tell
him hi for me, okay?

We will. Thanks, Doris.

Four photos. Five women.

Fire.

Poison.

Scalding hot water.

And Mom.

The only one
missing is Doris.

The sketches in his apartment,
one of them looked like her.

His next victim?

If he has her sketch,

then he has a way to get in
touch with her to return it.

He did this
last weekend.

Is he all right? We were
supposed to go out last night,

but he never
showed up.

He got very busy.

Where was he
taking you, Maisie?

An art gallery,
to see some photos.

He say anything about
this art gallery?

Where it was...

Somewhere in the city,
this big building.

He said you could drive
all the way up to the roof.

All right. Thank you, Maisie. The
officer will show you back downstairs.

I thought it'd be fun
to know somebody with a car.

Lab sent these back.
Anything from the girl?

She had no idea
she missed becoming

number five in Spencer's
revenge fantasy.

He was taking her
to Gerhardt's studio.

Stepping into
his master's shoes.

If he was planning
on taking her photo,

where's his equipment,
his camera?

It wasn't in his
car or his apartment.

Maybe he's already
stashed it at the studio.

Now you see it,
now you don't.

No wonder why
he was disappointed.

What is it you want
my client to do again?

We need to verify
if he's tall enough

to access one of the storage
spaces in the studio.

Sure. And then he'll do
a couple of jumping jacks,

and then we're going
to arraignment court.

Well, let's...

Let's start by taking
these off, huh?

What difference does
it make how tall I am?

I've never been here.

Really?

Didn't you tell Maisie Renfrew
you were going to take her

to an art show
here last night?

You were going to drive
her right up to the roof.

There's not a lot of buildings
in the city that you can do that.

Maisie misunderstood.

Oh! I see.

"Drive her up to the roof,"
that's a euphemism for something.

Mr. Carver,
let's get on with this.

All right, Spencer.
Come on.

Up.

Let's see you touch the vent.

Why don't you take it off?
Just hand it to me.

Thank you. Why don't you just
reach around and feel inside there?

You got something?
Take it out.

You can climb down.

This doesn't
prove anything.

We're quite aware of that. We just
wanted to make sure he could reach it.

This is not mine.
I didn't put it there.

Speed Graphic cameras.

See that?

Sorry.

They're like
classic cars.

This one has
a manufacturer's code.

It's a good chance you could
trace it back to the old owner.

Could take a while,
but it can be done.

Our experts say that this is the
camera that took those pictures

that we showed you.

You know, the ones inspired
by the detective magazines?

You know, I've got to
hand it to you, Spence.

You chose the right equipment.

It really brings out
the gore of a crime scene.

I told you I had nothing
to do with any of this.

I'm noticing
a resemblance,

a family resemblance.

Your sister Sandy.

You know, with
the flying matches?

Patty, the fry pan
and the meat surprise.

Oh! This must be Grandma.

How dirty could little Spence have
been to need scalding hot water?

Mom, who, in her
drunken stupor,

thought it was all so funny
to torment Daddy's little boy.

You know, you can repress the
memory of abuse all you want,

but it always finds
a way to express itself.

All right, my client
did his song and dance.

There's one missing.
Bad Nurse.

One more dance.
Come on, Spence.

Up.

No? Okay.

See, we found something
else in here this morning.

Bad Nurse,

that was the game your sister
Doris liked to play with you.

You know, when she tied
you up on Grandma's bed?

You know, just like this
cot here? Tortured you.

Your family, Spencer.

Real collection
of malevolent freaks.

I am not like them.
I became something.

I'm an artist.

Your art. Let's take
a look at your art.

Size 14.

Maisie Renfrew
was a size 14.

Is this what you had
planned for your big date?

You were going to kill her
like these other women?

Dress her up?
Pose her on the bed?

No.

Toss these into the picture
in remembrance of your father?

Your only ally
against these monsters.

Your ally who killed himself.

No, they drove him to it.

You could have
had the whole set.

The complete chronicles of
Spencer Farnell's suffering

at the hand of his family.

That's the proposal
you sent to Gerhardt.

And, obviously,
he stole all my ideas.

Stole them? You offered
him the full package.

Told him that you
were a mortuary worker

and that you could supply him
with bodies to photograph.

You're wrong.

And then, when he had enough,

with one sister left,
you lured him

to the printing house
to force him to go on.

When he refused, you
attacked him with a metal bar.

You put him in a car half-dead, right?

That's enough, Spencer. We're
going to get you arraigned now.

By making Gerhardt's death
public and controversial,

his last works, the posthumous
collection, would be exhibited.

And everyone would bear witness
to the vengeance that you took

on the women
that abused you.

And, in time, everyone would know
that you conceived the collection.

You'll be famous. I mean,
that was the idea, right?

Whatever you say.

It's too bad Gerhardt
had other plans.

People will see what
he wanted them to see.

When you first saw the photo,
you knew that something was wrong,

because the women didn't look
the way you remembered them.

You want to see why?

This is the print of Marla,
Gerhardt made from the negative.

This is the print that our lab made
from the same negative, untouched.

You see the difference?

You see Marla's blemishes,

and you see the two bruises just
under the shoulder from your knees

when you sat on her
and suffocated her.

But Gerhardt's photo,
none of those marks.

The skin is pure,
it's glowing,

and around her is this,
a halo effect.

And that's why you knew
that something was wrong.

You're missing the point.

You're a cop. What
do you know about art?

Nothing. I know nothing.

I just know about Gerhardt.

He used his skills
in the darkroom

to reconnect
with humanity.

Showed us that Marla
was beautiful and special.

Turned her into an angel. You
know, it makes us mourn her loss.

You know, I guess
Gerhardt just loved women.

And that's what we see
when we look at these photos,

his love.

He obliterated
your artistic intent.

He obliterated you.

That bastard!

That wasn't the deal we
made! It was my concept!

That's right, you worked so
hard. You had to find the girls...

Yes, and then preparing them!

Spencer!

All he had to do was
push the damn button!

Anything else you want
to add to that admission?

I need to talk
to my client now.

You can talk
to him in the car.

He's going to have a hard
time stepping back from that.

I'll offer him a plea in return
for telling us where the bodies are.

He should jump at it.

Gerhardt's most humane work.

And no one will ever see it.

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