All language subtitles for City on a Hill - S03E03 - Speak When Youre Angry

Jennifer, it is great
to see the old place.

Son of a bitch!

- Jenny! Jenny!
- Get out!

I came looking
for clues to prove

that my father was with
Dominique the night she died.

You find anything?

An empty bottle
of 1963 Lafite Rothschild.

Dominique could've
never afforded that.

Hernando Mendoza was injured
working on the Big Dig for you.

- I think we're done.
- Don't you fucking touch me.

Don't you fucking dare.

Dunleavy. You're not
getting away with this.

Fuck you, cocksucker.

You need to wake up.

You're not gonna absolve Boston
of its sin and vice.

And the only reason
you aspire to in the first place

is because it distracts you
from yourself.

Morning.

Guy Dan wants
to speak with us both.

- You know why?
- I just got here.

I'm telling you,
we're lucky working for a guy

like Sinclair Dryden.

When he was the S.A.C.
of the Boston Bureau...

Despite coming from
all this fucking money...

He never once pulled any
of that la-di-da shit with me.

He was the one that gave me
the go-ahead to bug

the seven Angiulo brothers
in the North End headquarters.

I couldn't fucking believe what
I was hearing over that wire.

They're bragging about wasting,
like, 20 Irish mobsters.

It's like I hit
the fucking lottery.

What happens when one of
the Angiulo brothers goes free?

Won't they come after you?

I hear the Italians

have a long and lethal memory.

You step out of a restaurant,

burping up a steak...

and bang.

What, I scare you?

I don't fucking believe you.

This is fucking bullshit.

Oh. Trouble in paradise.

What are you talking about?

You know, you got a morbid
fucking imagination,

Bad cock.

- I can't believe you.
- Victoria...

Three months?
I don't want to go to London

for three fucking months.

Well, if you'd listened to me
and studied another language,

you might have some options.

At least in England you'll know
how to ask for a bathroom.

You don't have to send me
across the goddamn ocean

just because you're too guilty
to look me in the eye.

All right, look, Victoria...

Letitia and I both think that
Dominique was a lovely girl,

and we understand that her death
is difficult for you.

Studying abroad is gonna
give you some distance

from the pain and confusion.

Oh, I'm not confused.

I understand
the situation perfectly.

If you try

to send me away,
I'll talk to the police.

About what? Me?

There's nothing to say.

Yes, there is.

You were with Dominique
the night she OD'd.

Have you taken your medication?

Oh, fuck my medication.

Jackie, get in here.

Jackie will take you
to Logan this afternoon.

Wait, today?

If you wish, I can have
the maid pack for you.

What? No. Fuck you both.

Fuck you for having other people
do your dirty work,

fuck your maids
and your security detail,

fuck your Swedish exercise ball

and your fucking stupid leotard.

Fuck you both,
forever and ever, amen!

"Speak when you're angry,

and you'll make the best speech
you'll ever regret."

- Ambrose Bierce?
- No, a lot of people think that,

but it's Groucho Marx, actually.

Huh.

Hello, Dad.

How are you?

Was that so hard?

What, Ma?

Oh, nothing. I was just, uh...

Talking to yourself.
You going crazy on me?

Last dinner at home
before college.

I am gonna make you
all your favorites.

Lasagna. Yeah, and garlic bread.

Ma, what's going on?

- You seem nervous.
- No, I'm not nervous.

You know? Excited.

Yeah, we're going
to New York City. Oh, yeah.

Where people ride
in a hole in the ground

New York, New York,
it's a wonderful town

Ma, is this because I'm leaving?

Uh...

Yes and no.

Let's hear the "no" part.

Look, don't tell
your father, but, uh...

I saw my dad.

- Holy shit.
- Yeah.

Being near him again,
I-I felt like my heart

was beating
right between my ears.

It's happening again right now.

Um...

I had imagined that moment
for years.

And in my mind,
I always took the high road.

But Benny, I...
went crazy on him.

- What did you say?
- No, I didn't, I didn't.

I-I shoved him
and I hit him. I...

I beat up an old man.

He earned it.

No, but...

I-I wanted to be
better than him.

I just ended up proving
that I really was his daughter.

You proved you were human.

He's the monster.
You just reacted.

I'm so glad he never got
a chance to know you.

Ah, you're my safe place,
Benedetta.

My one true thing.

Hey. You've probably heard
Millstein is retiring.

While I find his replacement,
I'll need

both of you to pick up
a couple of extra cases.

I'm assigning you
Curtis Whitaker.

You're new in town,
so I'm guessing

you're not familiar
with the case.

Twenty-eight, Black, accused of
murdering a policeman last year.

Duke Andrews, BPD.
Whitaker's on his second trial.

The first one ended
with a hung jury.

Oh, I'm sorry, did my talking

get in the way
of you interrupting me?

I want Curtis Whitaker.

Are you sure? I was gonna
give you the easy one.

I don't want the easy one.

Fine.

Blair, you get
the dipstick from Southie

who drove off
with ten grand worth of lobster.

Millstein will bring
you both up to speed.

Remember, I need headlines
to boost my campaign

for state attorney general.

So I want you two
to deliver guilty verdicts

efficiently and fast.

Hmm.

Ward, a moment?

True or false?

You carry a fucking gun
in your briefcase.

A licensed firearm, yes.

Anton Campbell is dead.

And my wife and I are alive.

I intend to keep us that way.

You know, they're gonna let you
into bars in London town.

You don't even got to sneak in
with a fake ID.

Sh...

Whatever my dad told you,
whatever he tells you,

is all lies.

And because of him,
Dominique is...

She overdosed.

I confront him
and he makes me disappear

before I can find proof
that he's responsible.

I mean, you know I'm right.

So do something.

Yeah.

Millstein.

Oh, you've come
in search of a file.

Curtis Whitaker.

That goddamn case.

You sure you're ready for this?

Why wouldn't I
be ready for this?

Well, Whitaker's a boondoggle.

And I heard you lost your dad.

You know, five years ago,
I came back to work

the day after my Rosie died.

Big mistake.

We all need to know our grief.

I'm A-okay.

Well, good luck
shoveling this shit.

You know, truth is, uh,
I didn't get a conviction

on the first trial
because the case

is a little fuzzy
around the edges.

Meanwhile, Curtis Whitaker
has been sitting in a cell

for over a year.

Uh, you want me
to feel bad about that?

Yeah, be a nice fucking change.

Yes, I'm calling again
to follow up on the status

of the Big Dig work logs.

The ones I subpoenaed.

The South Street location where
Hernando Mendoza was injured.

Uh, w-wait. Could you
connect me to your supervisor?

Siobhan?

- Hey.
- Uh...

Hey.

You better be extra sweet
to me. Mm.

The Mendoza case?

The stone wall around Needham
Industries is impenetrable.

Yeah, well, I'm handling
Curtis Whitaker's second trial,

so I expect the same.

Guy Dan, he's out there
gunning for a conviction.

Treating me and Blair
like-like we're just jousting

- on American Gladiators, so...
- Who's Whitaker's lawyer?

I don't know.
Some public defender.

- Hmm.
- Hmm.

Maybe I should get involved.

You know, I'm starting to think

that you just like
seeing me in the courtroom.

Mm. Well, it is where
you wear your best suits.

Thanks.

Hello.

Speaking.

What about Lulu?

What happened?

I understand.

Will do.

My high school friend
Lulu Harris...

Uh, yeah, from your...
The-the basketball team, right?

She's dead.

Car accident
down in South Carolina.

She listed me as her
next of kin, which is bizarre.

I-I know her parents died
a little while ago

and she doesn't have
much family, but...

...we haven't spoken
in 15 years.

Did you guys have a falling out?

No, we just, um...

...drifted.

Lady Letitia.

Uh, just a friendly reminder
that Braddock here

will be saving you
from the bad guys

while I'm in New York City
tomorrow.

Whatever you need, Miss Dryden,
I'm your man.

By end of day,
you'll forget old Rohr exists.

Well, I don't know about that.

I mean, as annoying as I may be,

once I'm in your head,
I'm pretty hard to get out.

Thank you, Greg.

She wants you to leave.

Oh.

Ah, that novel about
the love affair on the bridge.

You're welcome to borrow
the book when I'm done.

Uh, nah. I'll pass.

Not the romantic type?

Romance is a crutch
used by people

that don't have anything
interesting to say.

Or is talking a crutch
used by people

who want to avoid
their feelings?

No, talking is the best,

especially when you're not
so big on listening.

So, why are you headed
to New York?

My daughter Benedetta,
she's a, uh, freshman at NYU.

Oh, are you taking
your spiffy BMW?

Oh, not enough room.

My wife bought her
a whole new wardrobe,

plus bedding
and enough kitchen supplies

to stock the Union Oyster House,

so my little girl will be
making her grand entrance

into Manhattan
in a 1985 minivan.

- I'd like to meet your family.
- Mm.

I'm sure your wife and I
have a lot in common.

Hurry back.

Anything interesting
going on at the Drydens'?

I ask about your job, you look
like you need a getaway car.

So why you asking?

I'm making conversation.

Jen.

If you want to accuse me
of something, accuse me.

God, what are you
talking about, accusing?

Uh... God, what's Dryden
got you doing?

What, burying bodies
at Tenean Beach?

"Tales of circus life
are highly demoralizing."

You know, Jackie, just once,
I'd like you to give me

a straight fucking answer
instead of pulling out

the goddamn book
of Bartlett's quotations.

How's this?

Mind your own fucking business.

This is gonna be
a fun five hours.

The mistrial clearly proved
that the prosecution

didn't have sufficient evidence
to convince a jury.

Search every square inch
of Jamaica Plain.

There's nothing tying me
to the death of Officer Andrews.

- No gun, no history.
- Nothing but the testimonies

of a couple lying cops.

And a witness.

That witness,
in the first lineup,

couldn't identify Curtis.

Then, in the second lineup,
suddenly could.

Read the case file.

The man kept changing his story.

First he said that I had a gun,

then he said
I grabbed Andrews' gun.

In any case, I wasn't anywhere
near that corner on that night.

I read the file,
and the trial transcript.

You have no alibi.

Me and the wife
had a disagreement.

I went for a walk to cool off.
Is that a crime?

Do you often need "to cool off"?

That other prosecutor stood up
and told a room full of people

I killed a cop
for a street trophy.

I don't do that kind
of shit, Mr. Ward.

- You gonna say that I do?
- Look,

I won't build a case
around a theory.

But you're gonna
build a case, though.

Man, I-I got a wife and a baby.

I've only held my boy twice,
locked up in here.

He needs his dad.

So tell me, why didn't you
cross-examine the witness?

The sole civilian
who IDed your client?

I mean, he appeared
without notice.

My motions for a continuance

and to preclude his testimony
was denied. I...

I-I was concerned
that cross-examination

without preparation
could backfire.

And from your investigation
into the two officers

who made the arrest,
Officers Plunkett and Knoche,

is there anything there
I should follow up on?

Look, at the first trial,
my limited energies

were focused on proving Curtis

was an upstanding citizen
without a motive.

So-so, there's no investigation
into the officers.

Three character witnesses?
That's your defense?

That's your defense?

Those cops are dirty.

- Says who?
- The streets.

Please, man, ask around.

I'm going to examine
the evidence.

That's what I'm here to do.

You have a beautiful kid.

Yo!

Hey. Hey!

Hey, hey, hey,
what's with the interrogation?

Huh? You want
an innocent man to think

I'm the reason
he's stuck in this hole

with nothing
but a wallet-sized photo?

Honestly? If I try this case,
I don't want the thing reversed

on ineffective assistance
of counsel.

You know, in the year since
I've been handed this case,

I've been handed
184 felony cases,

and I don't even have
one fucking paralegal.

I'm lucky I remember
the man's name.

Driving here,
I kept thinking of Lulu

and how inseparable you were.

You doing all right?

My client Hernando Mendoza
is lying in a hospital

and here I am,
obsessing over the dead

while the living suffer.

Well, I understand.
Lulu's death was a shock.

I'm not shocked.

I'm trying to guess what flowers

or what dress,

what type of wood she would've
chosen for her casket.

What... Did she want
to be buried or cremated?

Or shot into space?
I have no idea

because I don't know
who she is... was... anymore.

Lulu loved you.

She wouldn't have
wanted you to stress.

- You don't know that.
- Uh...

You're just saying
the things that people say.

Uh, Siobhan, I'm here to help.

Put me to work. Okay?

I've buried a few people
in my time.

I've already, uh,
arranged for the...

body to be flown up to Boston.

Okay, good.

I'll have Cole's Funeral Home
at Logan,

pick up the casket.

She should be buried
with her parents, right?

- Mm-hmm.
- They're at Forest Hills.

Right. I'll take care
of that, too.

You get back to work.

We've been here
ten minutes and already

you're stinking up the place.

Put that out, you know,
make yourself useful.

What? Footing the bill
ain't enough?

Jesus, you're in a mood
these days.

Something you're not telling me?

Uh, Mom, Dad?

There's a couple of people

I wanted you
to meet really quick.

Mr. and Mrs. Rohr,

my parents
Barbara and Gus Aquino.

Oh, hi... hi, I'm Jenny.
Good to meet you, hi.

- Hi, and this is Jackie.
- Uh, Faust says

you're an FBI agent.

Retired.

Bet you have a bunch
of great stories to tell.

I'm gonna
feed the parking meter.

Pardon me.

Ah.

- So, how was your drive down?
- Oof...

Sorry to drop in unannounced.

It's no problem. Have a seat.

Get you a beer? Tonic?

Ah, no, thank you.

In case you were being polite.

What's going on, Dee?

All right, so, look, y...

You, um, you-you remember
Duke Andrews, yeah?

The cop who was shot
in JP last year?

Well, we, uh,
we went to his funeral.

Andrews' murder was pinned
on a man named Curtis Whitaker.

There's no evidence,
just two blue fingers

pointed back at him, right?

Now, the cops,
Gary Plunkett, Randy Knoche,

I-I hear they're dirty.

Now, I-I was, I was hoping
you'd look into them for me.

You want me to spy
on other cops.

Possibly testify against them?

It's no small favor, I know.

Oh...

We-we just buried Russ Wallace
for being too honest.

And Chris is a few days away
from testifying

against Tony Suferin
for killing Anton Campbell.

Look, plenty of days,
you and I both

put up with the corruption
in this town

either out of self-preservation
or exhaustion,

but there's got to be
some mornings

you just wake up
and say, "Enough."

If a guy like you won't
tell the truth, who will?

I-I, uh...

I-I can't make a career
busting other cops.

I mean, there's already
enough guys who want me dead.

I'll find another way.

- That's everything.
- Let me carry that for you.

- No, but thanks.
- Where's the Mace I gave you?

In my room.

Well, that was
your first mistake.

Dad, please don't spoil today.

Spoil?

You know,
when I went off to college,

I walked out of a cold house

with nothing but a backpack
on my shoulder.

My shithead father
was who-knows-where

and my ma was passed out
on the fucking couch

and I didn't want
to wait for him to get home,

'cause fuck him,

and I didn't want to wake
her up, 'cause fuck her.

So off I went.

And guess what?

I'm not gonna tell you goodbye

and I'm not gonna tell you
how incredible you are

or that you're the wind
beneath my fucking wings.

You want to hear
that kind of shit, just...

go up there
and find your mother.

I love you, Dad.

Free condom?

Yes. Thank you.

I'm really sorry, Mr. Rohr,

but there's really
no right answer there.

'Cause if I take it,

you'd think I have intentions
with your daughter,

and if I don't take it,
you think I'm irresponsible...

- Hey, Faust.
- Yeah.

How about you shut the fuck up?

Yes, sir.
Shutting the fuck up, yeah.

- When you were a baby...
- Mm-hmm.

...you choked on a cherry.

And I-I put your head down,

I smacked you
on your back and...

thank God,
it came out, okay? But...

I mean, w-what was I thinking,
giving you a cherry?

- You were too little.
- Ma, look.

No cherry. I survived.

- Thanks to you.
- Nah.

Luck is what saved you.

Yeah. Not me.

Not my maternal instinct.

That's why you're here today,
it's luck.

Yeah, me, you and everyone else.

You know, I used to fantasize
about what I'd do,

you know,
who I'd-I'd turn out to be.

You know, maybe having
some control over my life,

instead of feeling like
shit just kept

piling up on top of me.

But you can take control.

Be whatever you want to be.

In a way, that kind of
makes me feel like,

you know, I succeeded.

Okay, I got to rip
the Band-Aid off.

- Okay.
- Come on, kiddo.

Here we go.

Uh, okay, okay.

Study hard.

Hug Faust.

Go to your NA meetings.

And just know that you are
a total badass.

Okay? And, for fuck's sake,
Benny, have some fun.

- For me, okay?
- Yeah.

Oh...

I'm gonna have to take you out
for a lobster dinner.

Ward. Where's my Whitaker
conviction?

Millstein gets a year
and I get a day?

Blair already got a confession
out of the lobster bandit.

Well, of course.
You said that was the easy one.

Reverend Hughes,
thank you for coming.

- I know you're a busy man.
- How's Siobhan?

Oh, she's great, thank you.
Please, have a seat.

Reverend, I'm taking on
the Curtis Whitaker case.

- I need your help.
- That poor family.

Yeah, between you and me,

I suspect that he was
wrongfully charged.

But I need to understand
the circumstances

surrounding the death
of Officer Andrews.

They say you shouldn't
speak ill of the dead.

But in the case of Duke Andrews,
I'll make an exception.

He terrorized my neighborhood
to the point where he and I,

well, sometimes even a man
of God has to do some smiting.

What, you fought?

He fought with everyone.

Would you be willing to sign
a statement to that effect?

Give me a pen.

Did Curtis have any reason
to kill Andrews?

As far as I know,
the two never met.

All right.

The-the two officers
that arrested Curtis,

what can you tell me about them?

Plunkett and Knoche?

They pop up
every once in a while,

bust some heads of some pushers
and leave.

It's like they're trying
to win some merit badges.

Hmm.

Caysen.

Chris fucking Caysen.

- Cody.
- Fuck you, you son of a bitch,

how do you look exactly the same
as you did in the academy?

- Right back at you.
- Yeah. Yeah, okay.

So, what brings you
to my happy little home?

Gary Plunkett, Randy Knoche,
they work here with you, right?

Yeah, they do, sad to say.

What do you want
with those dickheads?

Yeah.

Ah, I'm glad I caught you
before you went home.

You did what I asked,
didn't you?

According to a highly
reliable source,

Plunkett and Knoche
are the worst kind of cops.

The two of them brag
about altered warrants,

false affidavits, extortion.

Any details on mishandling
the Whitaker case?

No, but plenty of other shit

should disqualify
their testimony.

- Who's your source?
- A cop in their unit.

- Good cop.
- He or she willing to testify?

Well, no, he wouldn't.

Huh. Maybe he isn't
such a good cop, then.

- I'll find someone who'll talk.
- Yep.

Hey, Chris.

I appreciate you.

- Hey.
- Hey.

How you doing?

Oh, my whole day's been
consumed by...

By what?

Nothing.

Consumed by nothing?

After what you just went
through, losing your father,

I'm not gonna burden you.

Oh, come on. Burden me, please.

Mm... You don't talk
about your father.

He dies and I don't
even see you cry.

I'm not gonna sit here
and blubber

about someone that I knew
once upon a time.

Is there a rule book
on who can cry and when?

When I was little,

I loved peach Yoplait.

Eventually, my tastes changed,
but my mother

kept stocking the fridge
with that same yogurt,

year after year.

- She still does.
- Right, yeah, uh,

uh, I love you, baby, but, uh,

what the hell
are we talking about now?

The funeral arrangements.

I'm afraid that every choice
I make is Lulu's peach yogurt.

Something she used to like.

Uh... Yeah, but...

There's love in the trying.

Mm.

Four months after shooting,

we're still getting
medical bills.

Rohr here.

Deegan, you slimy piece of shit.

What'd I do this time?

Huh?

Oh, you're fucking kidding me.

You couldn't let
a sleeping dog lie, huh?

You had to wake him up,
shake his tail.

Now he's back,
all teeth and slobber.

I thought we agreed that you
weren't gonna call your father.

No, you agreed.

And you forgot to consult
with me, as usual.

I just got off the phone
with a dickwad lawyer.

Daddy Dearest is hitting you
with an assault charge.

Did you assault him?

Yes.

Fuck! You see?

This is why I told you
not to see him.

'Cause I knew
this was gonna happen.

Oh, yeah, you knew
I was gonna attack my father?

Wow, I didn't even know that.

Well, I know you
better than you think.

I know you better
than you know yourself.

You don't know
anyone but yourself.

He was gone from your life, Jen!

So, again, you're welcome,
for 20-plus years of peace

that you just drop-kicked
out the fucking window.

Oh, yeah, life-life has been
real peaceful.

What the fuck compelled you

to invite that scumbag
into our home?

I...

I didn't invite him. I...

Oh, he just showed up?

Okay, I...

I confided in a friend.

That bitch... Sue Stanton.

No.

Don't tell me.

The walking penis
in a clerical collar?

This isn't about Father Doyle.

He was trying to help.

Fuck!

I told you to keep your distance

from that mick piece of shit.

You want me to keep
my distance from everyone!

Do nothing, confront nothing.

I'm not your fucking princess

you can keep locked up
in a tower!

I can't believe
I thought this house

would be too quiet
with Benny gone.

"Quiet"? You want fucking quiet?

- Yeah, I want fucking quiet!
- Here's your quiet!

Enjoy!

Hey, Braddock.
Cover for me today, will ya?

Got some shit I got to do.

Later.

So they finally kicked your ass
out of the priesthood, huh?

How do you know
where I'm staying?

Divine intervention.

Wait, wait, Father, Father.

I genuinely need
a piece of advice.

How do I get a nosy greenie to
mind his own fucking business?

Get out of his face,
he'll do likewise.

You know,
I'm actually getting tired

of hearing myself say this,
which is odd,

seeing as I love
the sweet sound of my own voice.

But stay the fuck

away from my wife.

Jenny would rather talk to me
than to you and that's my fault?

"Pride goes before destruction

and a haughty spirit
before a fall."

You can thump your Bible
all you want.

You're not the first to suggest
that I'm going to Hell.

But let me offer you
a piece of advice.

You should worry less
about my final destination,

and more
about what I might do to you

on the way down.

And I already broke
your fucking thumb. Next time...

You broke my thumb, Rohr, 'cause
you caught me by surprise.

I assure you,
that will not happen again.

Oh, you're gonna act
the tough guy now, huh?

I'm not acting. Not anymore.

You forget where I come from.

I grew up in a neighborhood
far worse than yours.

Once again,
stay away from my wife

or the next time,
I wait inside your apartment,

and I break your fucking spine.

Peace be with you.

Decourcy?

You mind if I take a walk?

Catch up with you later?

Not at all, babe. Go ahead.

Once I get these clothes off,

this whole sad pageant

can officially be
in the rearview.

Sad, but lovely.

You did right by Lulu.

We did.

I hoped
once she was put to rest,

you'd be okay.

Are you?

Hmm.

I'm worried about Decourcy.

He'd rather roam around
a cemetery than talk to me

about his dad, which of course,

reminds me of when Dad died.

And...

I just need a minute.

Hey, Milani!

Got a collar for you.

Priest stealing parish funds.

A bad priest? Impossible.

Oh, look who's a comedian now.

You know what I mean.
Come tell me when a priest

didn't fuck over the Church.

That would be worth my time.

Just 'cause something happens
a lot, like a bad priest,

that don't mean that
that ain't a crime.

And just 'cause you don't feel
like doing your job,

that don't mean that I won't
make sure that you do.

Now I don't know
what they do with thieves

in whatever-the-fuck country
it is that you come from,

but this is America.
We punish people here.

- I was born in Somerville.
- Prove it.

Going up against God.

This priest must've done
a really nasty to you.

You gonna tell me what?

His super-ego irritates my id.

Fuck.

Come in.

Minute's up.

Sorry, I thought I was...

long past mourning Dad.

Siobhan,
this isn't about your father.

It isn't even about Decourcy.

You're willing to talk
about anything else except Lulu.

Which is obviously
front and center.

So what's going on?

Um, I got a letter from her.

A goodbye.

What'd she say
that upset you so much?

I'm not sure telling you
is fair to Lulu.

Siobhan.

You two were so tight.

And then one day,

you stopped hanging out.

You said it was because

she made fun of how you dressed?

I...

I just assumed
it was something else.

The letter was, um...

She, uh...

Her car wreck wasn't...

She wrote a suicide note.

"I can't stop thinking
about that terrible night."

What night?

We were at a party
after a basketball game.

We got drunk.

Lulu was driving us home, badly.

She was swerving
all over the place.

Too fast.

The car slammed into a man.

A guy...

walking his dog.

Mom, we just...

we just kept driving.

The next day there was
a story in the news

about a hit and run.

And his name was Taylor Malcolm.

Married, two kids,

worked at The Pru.

That's why Lulu and I
stopped being friends.

The-the sight of each other
just made us sick with regret.

- Why didn't you tell me?
- Because I knew

you'd force me
to go to the police.

Yeah, you're damn right
I would've!

I wasn't driving.

And?

And I'd like to think if I was,

I would've turned myself in,
but...

nothing was going
to change the...

damage done to that man.

Why ruin Lulu's life, too?

I know what you're thinking.
If I had spoken up,

maybe Lulu would be alive
right now.

No, what I'm thinking is
that you were party to a crime

that haunted Lulu so deeply
she killed herself.

And you, you just...

- You just... What?
- Go ahead, finish your thought.

Lulu became suicidal and I...

I...

I pushed the guilt away.

- You pushed the guilt away?
- Mm-hmm.

You pushed it away for years.

How do you do that, Siobhan?

How did you do that?

How did you not tell me?
How did I not know?

- Oh, so this is about you?
- No, this is about you.

This is all about you. How...

I don't need
your shit right now.

No matter how bad
you want me to feel,

trust me,

I feel much worse.

What happened to Taylor Malcolm?

He was paralyzed
from the neck down.

God, just hearing you say
his name makes me want to die.

I don't blame Lulu for...

Okay, no, no, no, stop,
just, okay, stop.

It's okay, okay.

Okay, stop.

Okay, listen to me,
listen to me.

You can face it.

I need to find Taylor Malcolm.

What kind of man makes his wife
pick him up from work?

Jesus Christ.

I don't know.

Maggie, remember me?

Rick Dunleavy.

You need to ditch
this loser here.

You can forget any vows he made.

- He won't keep 'em.
- Hey, Rick?

Why don't you and your
fucking smirk take a walk?

What?

You're gonna fight him again?

Just get in the goddamn car.

Your owner's calling you.

It's not fucking worth it.

Just fucking drive.

Just fucking drive.

- He's...
- Just fucking drive.

He's not worth your time.

Well', here's that list

of local clinics
you were asking about.

- Oh, thanks.
- Okay.

Hey, Dermo.

Hey.

Hey, are you angry at me?

What, at you? Never.

It's been a rare week.

Did you get the results
from your HIV test yet?

Negative,

- I'm happy to say.
- Oh.

Um...

how's life in Quincy these days?

Well, uh...

...uh, my father's charging me
with assault.

Yeah, Jackie's furious.

Oh.

Now I understand.

Understand what?

This is all due to my meddling.

Look, I established a fairly
good rapport with your da.

You want me to talk to him?

See if I can get him
to drop the lawsuit?

Oh, you know, I couldn't
ask you to do that.

No, I'd be happy to.

Only I'm not sure
your husband would approve.

He paid me a visit.

Yelling about me
talking with you.

And then, uh...

Jackie threatened me.

Oh, my God, I am so sorry.

I mean, he...

He's been really, uh, on edge
these last few days.

Then an FBI agent came
to see me.

What? Why?

Jackie's accused me

of pilfering donations
made to the parish.

Well, for Jackie,
lying's just like breathing.

You know, it comes naturally.

Uh... there's no truth
to that though, right?

The money he's talking about

was in the pastor's slush fund.

And Father Bender,

he drinks a bit,
so then I put him in rehab.

I wasn't public
about what I did,

in order to save
the old fella's reputation.

I wanted you to know
the truth, though.

Father Bender's fine now,
by the way.

Look, you know what?
Please, let me talk to Jackie.

No, actually, please don't.

As I said, he's already
raging that I've defied

his orders to stay clear of you.

Yeah, well,
that's even more reason

for you and me to be friends.

You are quite a gal, Jenny.

That gobshite
doesn't deserve you.

No, I don't think so.

Listen, I'll call you later.

Someone's knocking.
He looks suspicious.

A gift

from New York, New York.

Lincoln Steffens.

I read him in high school.

Or tried to, anyway.

- Bit pompous...
- And this is my...

- for my tastes.
- My fun room.

It's where all the fun happens.

Oh, excuse us.

Uh, Bette,

this is my wife Letitia

and Jackie Rohr,
our head of security.

Lovely to meet you both.

Mrs. Dryden,
your home is gorgeous.

Oh, that's very kind of you,
Bette.

Bette wants
to work for the Bureau

when she graduates.
She comes seeking advice.

Advice from this guy?

Who better?

Well, this guy here could
tell you a thing or two.

But I need his help
with something.

If you'll excuse us.

Certainly.

Enjoy.

You look

like a Burgundy gal.

Yeah?

- Sure.
- Okay.

You know, Letitia,
that-that girl...

I'm glad my husband has a shiny
object to keep him occupied.

Before you left for New York,

we were in the middle

of something.

He died this year.

I wonder if Lulu found out.

That's why she did what she did.

Taylor's family should know

what I did.

Why? So that...

they can attach a name

to the person
they've hated all these years?

Stirring up that grief
might help you feel better,

but it's not gonna help them.

Then what should I do?

Find a way to forgive yourself.

Let your husband know
what's going on.

Mm. No. I can't.

He's got his own problems.

Well, that's even more reason
to talk to him.

You two have a bond,
not just love,

but... sorrow and loss.

Lean on each other.

Hey, so I'm watching
the-the midnight movie

the other night,
and there's this old flick on,

The Informer, about an Irish
guy who rats on a friend.

All kind of shit hits the fan.

Until the informer
ends up getting shot

by his other friends,
his former friends.

The movie ends with him dying
on the floor of a church.

Begging for forgiveness.

Cautionary tale.

Am I right?

Or am I right, huh?

So your husband's aware
of what you're up to in here?

Are you afraid
of losing your job?

Forgive me for being curious.

Sinclair and I keep
each other satisfied.

Sometimes that means giving
one another privacy.

Okay, so you're aware
of what he's up to?

I'm not an idiot, Jackie,

if that's what you're asking.

I'm asking

if you knew that he had sex

with one
of his daughter's friends?

You were poor growing up.

Right?

A job working private security

doesn't say "old money" to you?

Well...

when I was little,
I was one of six kids

and we were always poor

and always hungry.

Some nights, my parents
would go out to dinner.

Leave us in the car.

Come back
with a few slices of bread

and a couple ketchup packets.

When I married into this family,

I got caviar
served to me on a yacht.

A giant rock on my finger.

Do I look
the other way sometimes?

Yes.

I pay my rent with silence

and low-cut tops.

Nothing's free in this life,

especially for the needy.

"And the rich people
had all the money,

and all the chance to make more.

They had all the knowledge
and all the power,

and so the poor man was down,

"and he had to stay down."

- You know who said that?
- No, and I don't care.

You don't have to keep reminding
me that you read books.

Trading your emotional comfort
for physical comforts.

I'm not sure you got
the best end of that deal.

I'm not uncomfortable.

But we're not just talking
about infidelity here.

I mean, Dominique Zanghi, she...

Overdosed alone.

Did a broken heart
send her spiraling?

Maybe.

Hardly makes her death
Sinclair's fault.

Stop listening to rumors or...

Victoria's rabid imagination.

But that's not exactly the sound
of silence I'm hearing.

There's some complicity there.

None of Sinclair's lovers have
ever complained about him.

And not everything
needs investigating.

You don't work
for the FBI anymore.

You work for us.

Come back here,

you piece of shit.

Stop, you motherfucker!

Where you going?

Come on, you fucker.

Oh, you fucking motherfucker.

Goddamn it.

Stop!

Stop, you little asshole!

Harry. Harry.

- We had an agreement.
- I know, I know.

And you ain't doing
your fucking part.

All right, Dunleavy, all right.

I want my share of the money.

All right, all right. All right.

All right, all right,
I got your money.

Jesus.

Yeah, I got it in here, take it.

Take it. Take it.

- The drugs, too.
- I-I don't got the drugs.

- I don't have the drugs.
- Huh? Oh, you don't, do you?

- I don't, I don't.
- Huh?

Oh. What's this in here, huh?

What's this in here?

Yeah, what's this?

Your fucking nana's
baking powder?

You stick to our deal or
I swear to Christ on the cross,

I'll put you away forever.

All right, Dunleavy, all right.

Oh, shit.

Hey, hey, hey.
Hey, hey. Hey, hey.

Hey, hey.

There we go.

So you and
your wife met while skiing.

That's right.

And we shared...

- ...a chair lift.
- How romantic.

As we got off, I accidentally

knocked her down.

I'd like
to rescind my statement.

Rollins, Gutierrez, what are
you boys doing out here?

Hey, Chris. Can we come in?

What's this about?

Rick Dunleavy was shot.

He's dead.

We need to ask you
a few questions.

That was "Summertime"

sung by Ella and Louis.

Now we give Louis
a moment in the spotlight

with "I'm a Ding Dong Daddy
from Dumas."

Can we talk?

This-this is
my father's favorite song.

I'm a ding dong daddy from Dumas

And you ought to see me
do my stuff

I'm a clean-cut fella
from Horner's

Oh, you ought to see me strut

Oh, eble, able, oble, bugle

And I done forgot the words

Ding dong daddy from Dumas

Ought to see me do my stuff

Ding dong dong dong

Ding dong daddy from Dumas

And ought to see me do my stuff