All language subtitles for Law and Order S13E15 Bitch.DVDRip.HI.en.UNVSL

NARRATOR: 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.

My last boss, he
screwed me out of a raise.

So I tell him, "Who you think I
am, Blanche Freaking DuBois?"

What he said? Nothing.

So I went out for a
smoke, never came back.

Better to work with
animals who don't talk.

So they just let
you in like this?

Wait till you see Buffy.

Good morning,
Buffy, Vlad is here.

You sure this bitch likes you?

Hey, come on,
girl, it's time we ride.

Smells like old Buffy
has got a bladder problem.

VLAD: Mr. Osterhaus?

Hello? It's Vlady, sir.

Oh, my God!

So based on temp and rigor, time of
death comes in Saturday afternoon,

somewhere in the
neighborhood of 2:00.

Bruising up and down the right
side. Right ankle looks broken.

BRISCOE: Falling down
the stairs will do that.

I doubt he tripped.

Defensive wounds?

There's no way that head
wound was an accident.

So, somebody clocked
him before he fell down.

That's one possibility.

But considering the
lack of blood on the stairs,

I'm gonna go with the flip side.

He tumbled, and then got
beaned. Could be with that.

So that's what
a one-iron is for.

WOMAN: It's me, hon.
It's Saturday, let's see, 4:15.

I could really use a
brunch partner tomorrow.

Give me a jingle.

He didn't look hungry. His
name's Bradley Osterhaus.

Some kind of big
deal stockbroker.

Six calls. All women.
All very friendly.

Oh, and no forced entry.

Gold Rolex and 3,500 in cash,

laying out in the open
for all the world to see.

I doubt he was thinking robbery.

Found this inside, Detective.

It's a lady's earring.

BRISCOE: Thanks, Barrett.

Looks like diamonds.
Antique. Hard to trace.

And expensive.

This says that Osterhaus
was to have lunch

on Saturday with
a Cece Vandeveer.

Sounds like she could
afford a pair of these.

Bradley loved my crystal.

He used to say if I left
him one thing in my will.

BRISCOE: I guess you don't
have to worry about that anymore.

That's crass.

If you knew him, you'd know
how hard this is to fathom.

He seemed to have quite
a fan club, Mrs. Vandeveer.

They were all women.

Something wrong with that?

Hey, I'm all for it.

Fortunately, I wasn't
married to any of them.

Oh, please. Our
husbands trusted Bradley.

He was everything they aren't.

Charming raconteur, a
devil on the dance floor.

At lunch on Saturday,
you weren't wearing

antique diamond
earrings, were you?

This year, if it's not
designed by Kieselstein-Cord,

it's not in my jewelry drawer.

Mine either.

Let me tell you about Bradley.

He had two gift lists.

I've been firmly planted on
the Mark Cross list since '98.

ED: And the other one?

Les Belles Fleurs.

As a matter of fact, that's
where I dropped him after lunch.

Flowers always
did the trick for me.

You're a simple man, aren't you?

I do my best.

Beats the hell out of flowers.

Pardon?

Ignore him, he's simple.

Do you know who
Mr. Osterhaus bought that for?

He is very generous.
He has many friends.

Last week he bought three camis.

(SPEAKING FRENCH)

You could catch a cold in that.

ED: All for the same friend?

Sizes two, six, and eight.

Busy night. I don't think so.

We delivered two.

The third he carried with him.

Can you tell us where
the two were delivered?

REGINE: I don't know.

Some things are private.

We'll make sure you get an
invitation to Mr. Osterhaus' funeral.

(EXCLAIMS IN FRENCH)

Let me check my book.

I don't think I ever
met a size two.

PERRISUE: I just saw
him two weeks ago.

He took me to my first
Rolling Stones concert.

Tenth row, center.
My ears are still ringing.

Tough tickets to get.

Not for Brad. The man
knew everybody who knows.

Still, three seats,
front and center.

Three?

Oh, this.

Besides being older
than Mick by a decade,

my fiancé is more
the MeisterSinger type.

And he doesn't mind you
going around the town with Brad?

Are you kidding? Brad
introduced me to Ronald.

Did your fiancé know about
the lingerie Brad sent you?

Of course not. It was a
gift for my honeymoon.

Lower, a half inch.

I was with my attorney
up in Pound Ridge.

ED: Excuse me?

I'm sure you want to
know where I was Saturday.

Have you ever
actually read a pre-nup?

No, but I should have.

LINDSAY: We'd known
each other for years.

We went riding, played tennis.

I don't know how I'm going
to tell Darcy, my daughter.

She was that close
to Brad, was she?

She fell in love with him
at a Labor Day clambake.

He taught her how to swim.

What about you?

After my divorce,
I swore off men.

At least when Darcy was around.

She'd already had her life
turned upside down by her father.

Brad, I don't know,
he was different.

We heard he was
a hell of a dancer.

To the rest of the world.

To me, he was...

He was warm, like a
down comforter. Safe.

Well, what about all these other
women he'd been dancing with?

They didn't matter.

Like the little umbrella
in a frozen daiquiri.

It looks good, but does
nothing for the buzz.

You're very
colorful, Mrs. Tucker.

I'm a photographer.
It comes with my job.

Brad went out with those women

because their husbands or
boyfriends had better things to do.

It was

more of an obligation, a
business necessity. That's all.

I'm sure. What
about last Saturday?

I was setting up a
shoot at Jackie's studio.

Jackie? Jackie Scott.

The Queen of Cosmetics.
I'm doing her fall catalog.

Hello.

I got to get Darcy to ballet.

Bachelorette number one's
lawyer confirms her alibi.

And number two?

Jackie's office said they
couldn't tell us where she was

until they checked with her.

Apparently, she's a
very private person.

Well, then she needs to keep her
face off all those magazine covers.

Jackie Scott, huh?

What's up, Ana?

Her office says she'll be
at Barneys in a half hour.

Hey, if she's giving out
any free samples, holler.

I'm so sorry to
keep you waiting.

We've been prepping
for this event for months.

Not a problem. Thanks.

It's a shame about Bradley.

And to think that I was angry
because he never returned my call.

I hope you found
another brunch partner.

We heard your message.

(EXCLAIMS) Of course you did.

Actually, we wanted to talk
to you about Lindsay Tucker.

She's shooting my fall catalog.

You don't think that Lindsay...

It's all part of the drill.

Of course.

Can I have your
autograph? Sure. Excuse me.

When was the last
time you saw Lindsay?

Saturday. All day. We
were prepping for the shoot.

Thank you very much.

If you're thinking that Lindsay
killed Brad, you're way off base.

They were in love.

Were you really close to Brad?

Everybody needs a
shoulder to cry on, Detective.

And what sort of thing
made Bradley tear up?

You know, Brad treated
his clients like family.

When that Internet bubble burst,

a lot of them with discretionary
accounts lost a ton of money.

I think he felt like
he let them down,

like he was
personally responsible.

Sorry.

I wonder if any of
his clients agreed.

NUNAN: Everyone's
still in shock.

It'll take a while to sink in.

I guess it could
have been worse.

It could've been you?

Bradley could've had kids.

How are his clients holding up?

The stiff upper-lip crowd?
They probably didn't notice.

BRISCOE: Money's money, huh?

Oh, no, not to those
on Brad's client list.

You know, it's funny,
I used to tell him

that he wouldn't qualify
as one of his own clients.

Judging by his crib, I'd
say he was doing okay.

For some people the Mayflower
is more than a west side hotel.

Old money.

You know what? Maybe we
better take a look at that client list.

Put the biggest losers on top.

You thought I was mad as hell

and killed Bradley for
some bad investments?

A couple of million bucks,
I would've been tempted.

It was hardly a fiscal downfall.
It was more like a hiccup.

Nothing a little Pepto
wouldn't cure, huh?

Well, the way I see it, there's that
much less for my lovely wife to spend

when I'm gone.

People in our crowd, we
might die for money, Detective,

but we certainly
wouldn't kill for it.

Especially someone like Bradley.

My heart goes out to Lindsay.

Lindsay Tucker,
the photographer?

Yeah. She wanted to marry him.

But I'm not sure Bradley
was the marrying type.

Not that it really
mattered either way.

Why's that?

Well, for Lindsay to make it
down the aisle with Bradley,

she'd have to step over
her mother's dead carcass.

Why? Because he's
just a stockbroker?

Mom wouldn't appreciate
being kicked out of Brad's bed.

You didn't hear that from me.

Wait. You're saying that Brad was sleeping
with Lindsay Tucker and her mother?

PHIL: That's right.

And nobody who picks a fight with
Jackie Scott ever lives to talk about it.

You're talking about Jackie
Scott? The cosmetics mogul?

Publicly traded Jackie Scott?

Yeah.

Please don't tell
me at the same time.

It's like Oedipus, the sequel.

I'm not even going to start
to do the math on that one.

It gets better.

I need to sit down.

We talked to both of them.

Now neither one of them
mentioned the fact that they're related.

And you're thinking
the Makeover Maven

was somehow involved
in a first-degree felony?

Or covering one up anyway.

Imagine Lindsay's surprise

when she finds out just how friendly
Mom is with her main squeeze.

So she kills the guy
because of the mother,

and then uses her as an alibi?

Being rich ain't for sissies.

Did you check out their stories
with anyone at Jackie's office?

Well, it appears that no one
else was working on Saturday.

Then you need to talk to the
other woman in Lindsay's life.

Well, the daughter's
only four years old.

VAN BUREN: I'm
talking about the nanny.

God forbid these people
should raise their own kids.

Miss Lindsay
didn't tell Darcy yet.

Poor child, she couldn't
wait until Christmas.

Brad gave her nice
presents, did he?

She told me next Christmas Brad
was going to be her new daddy.

Well, how did Lindsay's
mom react to that news?

It was a secret.

Miss Lindsay wouldn't...

We wanted to know what time Miss Lindsay
went over to Brad's apartment Saturday.

She didn't go to Brad's house.

Oh, that's right. She
went over to Jackie's office.

What time was that?

I don't know.

ED: Wow, this is great.

Did Lindsay take this?

She likes the park
very much. Yes.

Isn't this nice, Lennie?

ED: It was a 10K benefiting
breast cancer research.

I must have missed
the little pink ribbon.

I ran the race, Lennie.

Don't ask, it was for a friend.

But it was just
this past Saturday,

and it was over at noon.

So either Lindsay used an awful
long lens to take that picture...

Or she wasn't in that office.

JACKIE: Make yourselves at home.

You want to use the
phone? It's pretty quiet.

It should be after what I
paid to soundproof this place.

Lindsay should be back soon.

You know what? I'll
bet you can help us out.

I'll give it a shot.

It's the least a mother can do.

Can I get you
something? Water? Juice?

The truth would be nice.

A couple of detectives go knocking
on your door asking questions

about your daughter's murdered
lover, what would you do?

It depends on who
did the murdering.

Why would Lindsay kill Brad?

Just a guess, but maybe
Lindsay didn't appreciate

you shtupping Brad
while she wasn't around.

You know, if one of my
employees spoke like that,

he'd be looking for work.

Maybe you should stop
giving us the run-around.

All right, look. I
was seeing Brad,

but Lindsay had no idea.

Nobody would have known if we hadn't
bump into Phil Brucker up in Vermont.

BRISCOE: Maybe Phil...
No, no. Not a chance.

He'd never hurt Lindsay.

Look, I know you
have to do this,

but, really, there is no way my
daughter would have killed Bradley.

Then why the fairy tale about you
two working together on Saturday?

No, she was here. All morning.

(KNOCK ON DOOR) And
Brad was killed in the afternoon.

Sorry, Jackie. Susan said
they were looking for me.

You know what? It might be
better if we did this in private.

The one thing you're
forgetting is that I loved Bradley.

BRISCOE: That's not gonna
help your case, Lindsay.

Look, for most people, the
more you love somebody,

the more likely you
are to get pissed

when you find out
they're cheating.

I told you, those other women
didn't mean anything to Brad.

He took them to the
ballet, to the theater.

He complained to
me about them daily.

All of them?

What's that supposed to mean?

I'm thinking about
one in particular,

someone a lot closer to home.

I have no idea what
you're talking about.

Lindsay, come
on, think about it.

How much time did your
Mom spend with Brad...

Stop.

That's sick.

Do you know who my mother is?

What she's
accomplished in her life?

She sleeps in the
Lincoln Bedroom.

She doesn't skulk around
in some sordid affair.

(CRYING)

I knew you would suspect me,

and I also knew that
once the papers found out

who I was it would be a
PR nightmare for my mother.

So you never got to
her office on Saturday?

I knew she was there. It was the
first thing that popped into my head.

Ms. Tucker's lawyer.

Don't say anything,
Lindsay. You charging her?

No. We were just having
a friendly conversation.

That's nice. It's over.
Grab your things.

That went well.

Excuse me.

Well, either this girl is
doing a real Meryl Streep,

or she doesn't know anything
about Jackie and Bradley.

How's Forensics doing
with that golf club?

Wiped clean.

Okay, Jackie said she was in
her office all day on Saturday,

so the call she made to Osterhaus
must have happened from her office.

Only the LUDs say that
she called from her cell.

Hey, people do use those
things indoors, partner.

JACKIE ON TAPE: It's me,
hon. It's Saturday, let's see, 4:15.

I could really use a brunch
partner tomorrow. Give me a jingle.

ED: Hell of a lot of
background noise, ain't it?

Have you ever spent
any time in my office?

I don't think the city
soundproofed your office.

Looks like Jackie wasn't
where she said she was either.

I have a room full of people in
there. When is this going to stop?

When you tell us something
that resembles the truth.

Do you have any idea
what I pay in city taxes?

I do, and I want to thank
you for these new shoes.

Don't quit your
day job, Detective.

Lindsay, I'll be
with you in a minute.

No, maybe you should hear this.

You weren't the only one that lied
about where you were on Saturday.

Go back to the meeting.

"Dear Jackie.

"Thank you for a
glorious weekend.

"Love, Brad."

Les Belles Fleures sent
me your box by mistake.

Once again, you win.

I killed Bradley.

JACKIE: Still lounging around?

I already gave up 95%
of my salary to the public,

I'm entitled to an
hour for myself.

Arthur, we've got to talk.

I think maybe for propriety's sake
we ought to wait a couple of months.

Do you always have
to be such a lawyer?

I think it's genetic.

You know, like making
money is with you.

Listen, Arthur,

if this mess hits the papers...

It's Lindsay's mess, not yours.

The company is me, Arthur.
It's my face, my integrity.

If either one of them
gets blemished...

Look,

we both know my judgment in personal
matters may not be top of the line...

Marrying Harold
was bad judgment.

Hopping into bed with the fellow

who's hopping into your daughter's
bed is a mangled moral compass.

If I remember correctly, I didn't
judge you when you came to me

hat-in-hand before the election.

Or when you wanted to
get in to that country club,

or get your season tickets to the
Met, I didn't ask any questions, did I?

I didn't judge.

I helped you because
you were my friend.

Say the word and
I'll recuse myself.

Otherwise, I'll
play it as I see it.

No. Don't be silly.

But tell me, Arthur,

this McCoy fellow,

he works for you, right?

Well, she has nerve.

Not to mention several
organs below the Mason-Dixon.

What does she expect you to do?

Well, to be blunt, she'd
like me to jump down,

turn around and
pick a bale of cotton.

SERENA: Jack.

So, I have three
items of note that you

might be useful in the
Lindsay Tucker matter.

Shoot.

Well, first, Jackie didn't
inherit her company

from a rich daddy or a husband.

The old gal started in the street
and made it up to the penthouse.

Now, as an entrepreneur,

she's right up there
with Sam Walton.

As a loving mother, she's
right up there with Sam Walton.

I know she feels love,

but mostly an eighth
of a point at a time.

So, coming to Lindsay's aid at
the risk of hurting her credibility

with investors is
out of character.

Miles.

Two, Brad Osterhaus wasn't
just the Scott girls' lover,

he was their stockbroker,
and a damn good one.

Now Jackie's mantra
has always been

if someone's making you money,

keep him around no matter what.

I'm sure Lindsay heard that
on more than one occasion,

and she's not one
to disobey her mater.

You think this is about
more than a cheating lover?

That's my two cents.

See if you can
turn it into a buck.

You said you had three
items of note. That's only two.

Number three, I read five
papers with my morning coffee.

Could it be he's been
unduly influenced?

Or he could be right.

I'd hate to find out I was
wrong after I rested my case.

According to this,
Lindsay's down about 10%.

Worse than some.
Better than most.

Not that it would bother
Lindsay either way.

Well, 10% of a lot is still a
lot, no matter who you are.

Look at the title
on the account.

"The trust for the
benefit of Lindsay Scott."

It's a tax thing, it's a way
to shelter capital gain.

So Jackie's the trustee?

Along with Brad.

It's the only way
the tax thing worked.

Let me get this right.

Brad couldn't buy
and sell stock for

Lindsay's benefit
without Jackie's approval?

And vice versa.

Can I get a look
at Jackie's records?

One step ahead of you.

That would explain why
Jackie's personal trades

and the trades in
the trust are identical.

Except for one. Pylon Petroleum.

Which lost 70% of its
value on October 10th.

Jackie had Osterhaus dump
her shares on October 8th...

And made a whopping
profit of $32,000.

While the trust's investment
in Pylon Petroleum was a bust.

Jackie must have known something
the rest of Wall Street didn't.

If Jackie had inside info,

why wouldn't she sell
the trust shares, too?

Because she couldn't
without Brad Osterhaus' okay.

He was the co-trustee.

And he wanted to lose money?

I'm assuming he wanted to
stay on the good side of the SEC.

But Jackie's worth more
than $500 million, Serena.

The most she could have
lost in Pylon is, what, 100,000?

Why would she kill over that?

I don't know. That's
where I lose myself.

I couldn't find any calls from
Jackie to Brad's office on October 8th.

What time did Nunan
dump Jackie's shares?

1:17.

Somebody named Neil
Skinner called Nunan at 1:14.

SERENA: Do you
have an address? Yeah.

Huh. Oh, you gotta
love these guys.

This call was placed from
Mr. Skinner's private jet.

SKINNER: Pylon Petroleum.

She was my baby.

Started trading oil
futures from a rented room

over a barbershop in Amarillo until I
had enough to start drilling on my own.

Let's just rope this
bull, why don't we?

My story to you is no different
than the one I told the SEC.

Members of my family
who sold their Pylon shares

acted without prior
knowledge of RWD's decision.

I know this for a fact
because I don't talk to them.

I'm interested in the flight
you took on your plane

with Jackie Scott
this past October.

(CHUCKLES)

So, you're after the
cosmetics kahuna?

This I'd pay to see.

Was she on your
plane in October?

Sure. I lent her the G-5 to
get back to the city from Aspen.

But you didn't fly with her?

And leave eight
inches of fresh powder?

Now, before you start
spending that promotion money,

you should know that Jackie
never buys a share of stock

without backstopping
it with a stop-loss order.

Smart girl.

She didn't have
a stop-loss order,

not for Pylon Petroleum
or any other stock.

She lied to Skinner.

You think he told her his
stock was about to take a dive?

If he thought she already
had a stop-loss order,

he wouldn't be
breaking any laws.

Skinner found out that RWD was
pulling out its financing on October 7th.

Jackie Scott sold her shares
on October 8th. It's hardly a leap.

What's this all got to
do with Brad Osterhaus?

The SEC started investigating
Skinner last month.

Jackie had to have known
it was only a matter of time

before someone with a Federal
warrant came knocking at her door.

So she tried to persuade Osterhaus
to back-date a stop-loss order,

he refused and...

Brad Osterhaus doesn't
live to testify against her.

What about Lindsay's confession?

Arthur was right. Jackie could
withstand the stink of a sex scandal,

but a financial scandal would hurt her
credibility with her precious investors.

So, Lindsay confessed to a crime
she didn't commit to save the empire.

Especially if Jackie assured
her that Arthur would get her off

with just a slap on the wrist.

Let her go. What?

Release her.

But first stop off to see
Judge Martin about a wiretap.

JACKIE ON TAPE: I
told you they'd fall for it.

I had no doubt Arthur
would come through for us.

LINDSAY ON TAPE: Us? I
didn't see you spend a night in jail.

Sorry.

It's okay. And
thank you, Lindsay.

I hope you realize how
much I appreciate this.

I've heard warmer mother-daughter
conversations on the Nature Channel.

That's the first call Lindsay
made when she came home.

Thursday night?

Jackie should be at the Grand
Havana Room right about now.

Look, Ed, boys' night out.

No room at the table, fellas.

Oh, no problem.

Time to fold them anyway, Slim.

Jackie Scott,
you're under arrest

for the murder of
Bradley Osterhaus.

You have the right
to remain silent.

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

"Docket Number 423763,
People v. Jacqueline Scott.

"Charge is Murder
in the First Degree."

That's as good as it
gets. What's your plea?

Not guilty, Your Honor.

My client is a valued
member of the community.

She employs thousands of New
Yorkers who depend on her for their salary.

Does she have
a cat? I like cats.

The State asks for
remand without bail.

Ms. Scott's wealth
makes her a flight risk.

Since when is financial
success a criminal offense?

So what say we make her
that much less offensive.

Bail is set at two million cash.

Your Honor, this defendant
can hop on a private plane

as easily as you and I
can get on a subway.

But can she get
a cab in the rain?

I'll take your passport,
too, Ms. Scott.

SERENA: For added assurance,
the People also request

an electronic ankle
bracelet and house arrest.

Don't fret, Ms. Scott. Maybe you can
cook up some matching accessories. Next.

Let me guess. You want to tell
me what a great mom Jackie's been.

I'm not here to make
excuses for her, Arthur.

And these bones have been through
way too much to bend over backwards.

For anyone.

So that's it? We just throw her
out with yesterday's newspaper?

If she killed someone, yes.

There was a time,
maybe I was five or six.

It was way before she
was a household name.

Central Park was
filled with snow.

I just couldn't wait
to use my new sled.

So when Mom stopped
to talk with someone,

I grabbed it and I
flew down the hill.

Right into a tree. And
the sled shattered.

And I thought, oh, my God, she's
gonna kill me, she just bought this sled.

But she picked me up, and she
ran all the way to the hospital.

You've long since
paid her back, Lindsay.

But if you could see
the look in her eye.

She loved me, Arthur.

Not the sled.

Me.

She was willing
to send you to jail.

No. She would never
have let it get that far.

She betrayed you with Bradley.

She knew he was wrong for me.

His being with
her only proved it.

You can't help her?

So, I listened to your tape.

What I heard was a mother
expressing appreciation

for her loving daughter's help.

For taking a fall to prevent

the Feds from discovering
a financial cover-up.

First Martha, then me. What?
The boys get a free pass?

SERENA: We found your palm
print on the wall above his corpse.

You can't honestly claim
she didn't kill Brad Osterhaus.

I didn't hear her
say that, either.

Here we go.

My client intends to plead not
guilty by reason of mental defect.

I can't wait to hear
what comes next.

As a result of hormone
replacement therapy withdrawal.

Menopause rage? Give me a break.

Hormone imbalance, sleep
deprivation. It's real, Jack.

Go ahead, ask what's her
name, Olivet? To talk to her.

Or Skoda.

The more the merrier.

JACKIE: And once I
stopped taking the pills,

I was unable to get
a full night's sleep.

And I became so
forgetful and irritable.

I screamed at
everybody around me.

Once I even walked
30 blocks at full speed,

and I had no idea
where I was going.

Is that how you felt when you
went to see Bradley Osterhaus?

I really don't remember.

I know I had a hair trigger.

And I was always muddled,
always a step behind.

Mr. McCoy thinks you went to
see him to ask him to help you

cover up an illegal
securities transaction.

When he refused, you killed him.

For $32,000?

Do you have any
idea what I'm worth?

I've heard rumors.

And I earned it all myself.

Eighteen hour days, six days a
week for over 30 years, Doctor.

Can you still keep up that pace?

Well, I could, until I
quit the hormones.

And then?

I know all those menopause
jokes men tell in bars.

I defy any one of them

to try and conduct a board meeting
while suffering through hot flashes

or try and make a
sound business decision

after lying in a pool of
your own sweat all night.

Nightmares don't happen
when you sleep, Doctor.

They happen the day
after you can't sleep.

How about now?

Now I'm fine.

It's only because
I'm back on the HRT.

In spite of the risks?

Well, the first thing
you need to understand,

I am what I do.

My business is my life.

Where does concern
for your daughter fit in?

I love Lindsay. We're
not talking about her.

DR. OLIVET: Maybe we should be.

You have to admit most mothers don't
have affairs with their daughter's lovers.

And I am not most people.

(SCOFFS)

Oh, you're gonna make
a meal out of that one.

Doctor, you of all
people should know

you can't control where
the heart takes you.

Even if it might
devastate your daughter?

Look, as I said here repeatedly,
I was not in my right mind.

She lived like a man,
she worked like a man,

she made it to the top in male
society, and now that she's in trouble,

she's a damsel in
menopausal distress?

What do they say about an estrogen-depleted
woman carrying a loaded gun?

That's not science.
It's a bumper sticker.

Don't tell me you're buying
any of this nonsense?

Of course not, but a jury might.

Was HRT withdrawal the reason
she murdered someone? No.

But I've got to tell you, if you
pump anyone full of enough drugs

and then remove them,

it's got to affect both
emotion and behavior.

To the point they
could control neither?

It's a possibility
that can't be ignored.

Please. Biology is not destiny.

Jackie Scott
personifies narcissism.

She's cold, she's selfish,

- and she's more concerned with
her financial well-being than she is

with the welfare of
her daughter, her lover,

or anyone else for that matter.

It's hubris that gets that
woman up in the morning.

And the only reason
she'd kill Osterhaus

is to protect her position
in the Sunday Style section.

I'm convinced.

Sorry, Emil. You'll
sit this one out.

Hot flashes, night sweats,
and vaginal dryness

are the most common
menopausal symptoms.

What about sleep
deprivation, Doctor?

It's a secondary
symptom of night sweats

experienced by some, but
certainly not all, menopausal women.

And the hormone replacement therapy
relieves sufferers of those symptoms?

It's been very successful, but
recent studies have linked HRT

with an increased
risk of breast cancer,

so many women have
elected to forego it.

And the typical symptoms return?

That's correct.

Let me ask you this, do you know
of any case in which those symptoms

have led to murder?

No.

Then, in your opinion, when the
defendant killed Mr. Osterhaus,

was she aware of what she was
doing? Did she know right from wrong?

Yes. Jackie Scott's life
is defined by her status

in a socially elite world.

When that status is threatened,
her reaction would be primal,

like a lioness protecting a cub.

Look what she
did. She was willing

to send her daughter to prison
rather than lose her social position.

Jackie Scott is what she earns,

and from what I
gather, she was petrified

that the Federal government
might take that away.

And that's why she
was willing to kill?

I believe so.

Are you a medical doctor?

I have a PhD in
clinical psychology.

You mean like, "Lie on your
back and tell me your problems"?

Objection.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to
trivialize your profession, Dr. Olivet.

I just want to understand
your background.

For instance, are you educated

in the biochemical ramifications
of fluctuating levels of estrogen?

I know how to read.

And I know that no level of
estrogen will cause a woman to kill.

Nobody is saying that estrogen
itself would cause anyone to kill.

To your knowledge,

are menopausal symptoms worse when a
patient stops hormone replacement therapy?

All evidence to that
effect is anecdotal at best.

But it does happen
in some women?

Yes. Their hot flashes
become more pronounced.

They may sleep less. But they certainly
don't become emotional car wrecks.

Is that a medical term, Doctor?

DR. OLIVET I lost my temper.

JACK: I don't blame you.

I survived the nurture
versus nature war, Jack.

Both sides are wrong
and both sides are right.

But women have come too far to
let the law entertain questions like,

"Would you want
her to operate on you?

"Would you want her
finger on the button?"

Do you want him on the
stand? Brolin's calling Skoda.

How'd he get on
Brolin's witness list?

SERENA: He didn't. He's on ours.

You're a psychiatrist, Dr. Skoda,
a medical doctor. Is that correct?

Yes. Good. Now,

would you agree with your
esteemed colleague, Dr. Olivet,

that increased night sweats
that accompany HRT withdrawal

could cause sleep deprivation?

Yes. And what is frontal lobe

deficit, Doctor?

It's an interruption in the chemical and
electrical activity in a patient's brain

which impedes it from
functioning normally.

Now, Doctor, what could cause

the chemical and electrical
activity in the brain to be impeded?

Idiopathic hypersomnia, which is the
most common form of sleep deprivation.

Now, what are the ramifications
of frontal lobe deficit?

It hinders one's ability
to process language.

It can also lead to impaired judgment
and more violent behavior. Isn't that true?

It's possible.

Now here is the analysis
of the endocrine levels

in Ms. Scott's blood plasma.

Is there anything here
that jumps out at you?

There appears to
be low TSH levels,

which indicate decreased thyroid
activity when she wasn't on HRT.

And the significance of that?

The defendant may have
been sleep deprived, but...

Which can cause frontal lobe deficit
and the subsequent violent behavior.

Now, could you please tell
us who pays your salary?

I have a private practice.

And?

And I'm on retainer with
the District Attorney's office.

Thank you.

So, a college freshman

who pulls a couple of
all-nighters cramming for finals

might snap and
whack his roommate?

Of course not.

Idiopathic hypersomnia
is a severe sleep disorder.

Patients diagnosed as such
typically awaken from a deep sleep

several times during one night.

Do you know of any
specific case in which

a woman committed a
murder because she stopped

hormone replacement therapy?

No.

Nothing further.

I mean, my bed became my enemy.

You know, I would
awaken in this hellish heat

six or seven times a night.

I'd have to move to another
bed, to get dry pillows and sheets.

And then, suddenly, I'd be freezing,
shivering, I couldn't fall back to sleep.

What about during
the day, at the office?

My God, it was humiliating.

I kept forgetting.

I'd be right in the middle of
a speech to shareholders,

and I didn't know who I was
talking to, what I was trying to say.

And what you have
to understand is,

my mind has taken me
where I wanted to go.

Now, I had lost faith in it.

You seem perfectly fine
sitting here, Ms. Scott.

That's because
I'm back on the pills.

Despite the cancer risks?

Yes.

Yes. And anybody who has
ever experienced the alternative

wouldn't even
have to ask me why.

Why did you kill Brad Osterhaus?

I don't know. I don't remember.

But if I could have
stopped it, I would have.

How did you get to Mr. Osterhaus'
apartment the day you killed him?

I walked.

JACK: Over a mile
on busy city streets.

How long did it take you?

Well, I didn't check my watch.

But you didn't get lost? No.

Kill anyone along the way?

Objection.

Sustained.

How did you get home afterward?

I took a cab.

A cab? Really?

Did you tip the cabbie?

JACKIE: Of course.

You remember walking to
Mr. Osterhaus' apartment.

You remember tipping the
cabbie for the ride home.

But nothing in between. I've
got to admit, I find that curious.

I also find it curious that
you had the presence of mind

to leave an innocent sounding
message for Mr. Osterhaus

two hours after you killed him.

Exactly. That's what I'm
saying. I went in and out.

I was so confused.

I didn't know what I was doing.

You were establishing
an alibi, weren't you?

You want to walk out of this
courtroom, and you're willing

to demean half the
world's population to do it.

Objection.

Go ahead, mock
me. Call me names.

I'm used to it.

Men have been
laughing at me for years.

They laughed when I applied
for my first business loan.

They laughed when I proposed
to take my company public.

They said the business community
wouldn't take me seriously.

They said, "Why don't you just put
your pretty little face on the billboards,

"and we'll take
care of the rest."

Well, I put my face
on the billboards.

And I took care of the rest.

I did it all myself.

Do you think it's easy for
me to admit that I lost control?

I want to remember, Mr. McCoy.

I wish to God I could.

I need to be redeemed.

The scientists punched it
out in the center of the ring

while Jackie
rope-a-doped the jury.

I doubt anyone fell for
that self-serving drivel.

There's no way a jury can ignore
the financial motive or the false alibi.

Sympathy versus science.

So we're looking at a jump ball?

Well, we need 12,

they only need one to hang it.

Which means it's
time to cut our losses.

Helen Brolin? No way. When she
smells blood, she doesn't retreat.

Look, I know I'm skating out
on the thin end of the pond here,

but set up a meeting
for tomorrow morning.

Is that right?

Arthur.

What? No straightjacket?

That's not funny.

Yeah, Lillian tells me my
last funny line was, "I do."

Exactly whose soul
are we here to search?

You're right. I'll tell you
what I'm going to do, Jackie.

I'm going to put man one on
the table, you'll do the minimum,

and we'll call it a day.

My jury consultants tell me
this is far from a sure thing.

I play poker with you, Arthur.

The fact that you're here at all tells
me you don't think you have a winner.

But I still get to draw
some more cards.

Just how long do you think we
can keep this metaphor going?

I'm going to indict Lindsay
for obstruction and conspiracy.

Right. What do you care?

You've already walked down
that road with Lindsay once.

You are really a
piece of work, Jackie.

I'm not gonna let you sit
here and insult my client.

I haven't even warmed up yet.

And as God's honest,

I can't wait to get
back in a courtroom.

You?

Hey, what are friends for?

Helen, would you give us
a moment alone, please?

Not a chance.

JACKIE: It's all
right. I'm fine.

Nothing she says
can be used in court.

BRANCH: Never crossed my mind.

The gender card? Please. You
won't even use the ladies' tees.

My lawyer seems
pretty confident.

If I were you, I'd forget about my lawyer
and start worrying about my daughter.

Because when I cross-examine
those witnesses, including Lindsay,

I'm going to ask about
every check you ever wrote,

every share of stock
you ever bought or sold,

and every man
whoever spent the night.

You son-of-a-bitch.

Take your time.

Discuss it all with counsel.

"Pick a lane."

That's what the old
man used to say.

He used to say, "Jack,
life is like the street."

Like a dangerous New
York street. You pick a lane.

And don't you let
anybody ever cut you off.

You can't cut me off, Arthur.

No one can.

I didn't have to.

BRANCH: Of course
she took the deal.

It may not be the best thing I ever
did, but then again, it wasn't the worst.

I'm not going to ask.

Let's just say that money
may not buy happiness,

but it sure buys a
lot of family secrets.

She could have paid the SEC
fine and been on a plane to Paris.

Well, Jackie never
bites the hand

that feeds her,

but she'll cut off the one that tries
to take even a mouthful off her plate.

Now she gets to trade that ankle
bracelet for a jailhouse jumpsuit.

I hope for their sake
they have her color.