All language subtitles for Your.Honor.US.S01E03.Your.Honor.Part.Three.720p.AMZN.WEBRip.DDP5.1.x264-NTb

Previously on Your Honor...

The boy you hit
is Jimmy Baxter's son.

I can keep you safe
if no one ever hears about it.

Robin's car,
I need it to disappear.

Drop the key behind
the front left wheel.

- You alone, Little Mo?
- Yeah.

Good. Listen up.

Got a job for you, Kofi.

Every morning, there's her car

just sitting there.

Like a bruise.

You want me to let it go?

No. Sorry.

Wrong cop.

- Against the wall.
- We found the car.

Well, that's-that's great news.

What the hell is that?

I love Vivian Maier.

Yeah, I-I really love her.

Dark, suspenseful music

You can tell me
what I want to know now

or you can tell me later.

Kofi Jones knocked Rocco Baxter

off his motorcycle
and left him bleeding to death

- on the roadside.
- I need a favor.

- Why him?
- We both know the difference

between you
and a public defender.

How does the accused plead?

Guilty.

Adam.

The fields are
crying out It's Jubilee

We sold ourselves for love

But now we're free

I'm so sorry for that
ghost I made you be

Only one of us was real

And that was me

I heard the snake Was
baffled by his sin

He shed his scales To
find the snake within

But born again is
born Without a skin

The poison enters
Into everything

And I wish there was
a treaty we could sign

I do not care who takes
This bloody hill

I'm angry and I'm
tired All the time

I wish there was a treaty

I wish there was a treaty

Between your love and mine

I've seen you change
the water into wine

I've seen you change
it Back to water, too

I sit at your table every night

He got better.

I try, but... Closer to the end,

the better his voice.

You got that right.

Raging against the dying
of the light.

I do not care who takes
this bloody hill...

Who said that?

Somebody said that, right?

I'm tired all the time...

Don't think I've seen you
in here before.

I wish there was a treaty

Between your love and mine...

Unhappy ending?

Your marriage?

In the street, it's Jubilee

Two more here.

You got it.

Dylan Thomas.

Leland Munroe.

Good to meet you.

Only one of us was real

Hit him!

What?

Hit him, motherfucker!

Hey! Hey! Hey, come on, stop!

- Stop!
- Fucking hit him.

He does that shit every night.

He's in your fucking cell,
so you fucking hit him.

I'm gonna lay some truth
on you, Leland.

I didn't come here tonight
to drink away my pain.

I came to do something about it.

You lost me, Dylan.

I went to your gas station
tonight.

Wait...

I got there
just as you were leaving.

And I followed you here.

You fucking followed me?

Yeah.

My wife is cheating on me.

Shit.

And I've suspected it
for a while.

You know,
the little things that...

I remember.

I remember.

20 years we've been married.

And I'm reduced to snooping
around in her fucking purse.

What'd you find?

Prepaid credit card.

So I tracked the charges.

There was a $32 charge
at your gas station.

October 9, 9:30 in the morning.

So she came into my station,

bought some gas, filled up.

She didn't have her car
that morning, Leland. I had it.

Goddamn.

You know what the next charge
was on the credit card?

The Destiny Inn Motel.

Fuck me.

Shit.

That is not a classy place.

Hourly rates.

Well, so, she paid
for the motel.

She paid for the bastard's gas
at my station.

Do you know
who this piece of shit is?

Well, that's where you come in.

You can't hide
from us, pin dick.

Any second now... 8:30.

- 8:50.
- N-No. Stop, stop.

Is that him?

No.

You okay, Dylan?

You know what it is, you know...

You know what I can't take?

What?

You.

The kindness of strangers and...

It's okay.

You're a good man.

You're a fucking honorable man.

Leland, would you give me
a second?

I want to get this over.

Yeah. Sure.

Sure. Yeah.

soft, somber music

Shit.

Leland.

This saved anywhere else
besides the hard drive?

Some server in the sky, maybe?

There's only one server
in my sky, Dylan.

That's the big man Himself.

Nope. Nope, what you see
is what I got.

Dark, pulsing music

What the fuck are you doing?

I-I'm just...

I don't know.

What's your name, son?

Adam.

Desiato.

You're related?

Is that a tough question
somehow?

- He's my dad.
- You know it's not cool

taking pictures
of a secure facility, right?

Yeah.

Sorry.

Don't let that
happen again, a'ight?

I'm thinking
probably the last thing you want

is a smart lawyer
fucking with you.

You made a decision
to plead guilty.

I respect that.

I'm here for one reason only:

to keep
the number of years down.

The sentencing range is
five to 30.

There's a hell of a lot
of discretion built in there.

So what's said on your behalf
really matters.

Your early guilty plea helps.

Having no criminal record
really helps.

Leaving a kid your own age

bleeding to death in the road...

...and then stealing
the cell phone

he was trying to call 911 on,

not so helpful.

Appearances matter.
It shouldn't but it does.

A good haircut
and a clean shave.

And how's that gonna happen?

You've got friends in here.

Little Mo paying for you?

I'm pro bono.

There's no such thing
as a free lunch.

Not even in Latin.

Wait. You know Latin?

Lawyer Latin.

Ever since that mean-ass judge
called me "doli incapax"

when I was ten years old.

Too young
to know wrong from right.

- What were you charged with?
- Usual shit.

Skateboarding while Black
or whatever.

Whole courtroom laughing at me.

People still call me Dolly
sometimes.

NOLA PD been good to you?

- So what am I looking at?
- We play it straight, ten.

- And if we don't?
- I go to the DA.

With what?

There's an urban myth.

Shreveport cops using an old
beater car to put suspects in.

You heard that?

They lock the doors,
hog-tie the poor bastards,

then they let in the gas.

- Stop.
- Not a mark on them.

Only thing that shows?

The eyes.

Red, itchy.

Nothing for a smart lawyer
to fuck with.

- Stop!
- Sure.

Urban myth, right?

I ain't changin' my plea.

You do what you do,
but I ain't flipping my plea.

It won't ever come to that.

Low, suspenseful music

music grows louder

I'm your boss, Michael.

It's my job to tell you
you look terrible.

You know why you look terrible?

Field trips to the Lower Ninth.

Trials that shouldn't be trials.

Probation reports
when nobody needs them.

- Too much justice?
- Don't you get

all moral high ground
with me, Michael.

Neither of us has the energy
for that thinned-out

fucking oxygen that
you're living off up there.

It's basic math... we have
an unbelievable case load,

and you are taking too long
to get through your work.

I'm telling you this
because I love you.

Stop clearing your throat,
Sarah, and say it.

A reporter from The Washington
Post called me yesterday

to comment on his story.

- Know what that story's about?
- No.

Murderers and rapists
freed pretrial

because NOLA judges
are backlogged.

Every judge in this building
is about to take a massive hit

so that Michael Desiato
can sleep at night.

We're good to go, Judge.

I'll see you later, Michael.

Well,
thank you for joining us, Judge.

- Don't do it, Warden.
- I thought judges

- were supposed to be impartial.
- You are confusing impartiality

with something else.

Carlo Baxter is
a vicious, dangerous racist.

Those are very loose terms
you're bandying about, Judge.

With respect, those are terms

representing an impartial
description of the truth.

The motion is for Mr. Baxter

to attend his brother's funeral.

We're not asking
for any favors here,

just some
basic human compassion.

Judge, do you have the court
reporter's notes from the trial?

I don't need them.

Baxter's defense was
that he wasn't there,

that it was someone else who
snapped Justin James's spine

and put him in a wheelchair

and then somehow
planted Carlo's DNA

all over the victim
and the scene.

- Is she there?
- Who?

- The mother.
- Mrs. Baxter's present, yes.

- Why?
- Gina Baxter said

that her son was with her
all day.

Which makes him and his mother
proven liars.

We object to the tone

and, frankly, the veracity
of her characterization.

- Do you object to proven liars?
- Why don't we get back

to some facts
instead of slinging mud around?

Mr. Baxter has been
an exemplary prisoner.

Exemplary.

Now, it would be just cruel
not to let him be

with his family
when they bury his brother.

And here's the thing.

There are only two weeks left
on his sentence.

What kind of idiot would he be
to mess things up now?

The kind of idiot
who comes within an inch

of murdering a 15-year-old boy
for no other reason

than he doesn't like
the color of his skin.

The Baxter family is happy
to meet the full cost

of transport and security
for Carlo to attend

his brother's funeral...
If, God willing,

you see fit to grant the motion.

Is that the best you can do,
Mr. Zander?

The old combination punch
of cash and God?

I'll retire to make my decision.

Man, what you up on?

Possession.
Single wrap of diesel.

You?

Some bullshit shoplifting.

Murder.

Okay, killer.

The New York Times,
I'm thinking, would be

- my paper of choice for this.
- For what?

I've been working
at a white-shoe firm

- doing white-collar crime.
- I heard.

Fifteen years ago, when I left
the Public Defender's office,

police beat people up,

got what they wanted,
nobody looking or caring.

Now? It doesn't exist, right?

He pleaded guilty.

- After he was gassed.
- And he had legal advice.

45 seconds from an exhausted PD.

Advice is advice. It's done.

Seventeen-year-old
who killed mob boss's son

faced mock execution

at a New Orleans
Police Department black site.

- Headline writes itself.
- So you're telling me

this Kofi Jones kid wants to
change his plea to not guilty,

and invite the rest of the world
to just watch what happens next?

You took the words
right out of my mouth.

Flipping his plea,
taking on the NOPD

and the Baxter family?

That's got to come from him,
right?

Warden, I wanted to thank you.

For the religious instruction
my son has received.

I know he'll leave here
with a structure for his life

provided by Jesus Christ
and his teachings.

May God bless you.

It's an unconditional gift.

If you grant my son
permission...

if you allow him home

to be with us
when we bury Rocco,

then take the costs out of this.

The remainder is
for the refurbishment

of your beautiful chapel.

And if you don't let him home,

the whole amount is
for the chapel.

Pulsing, atmospheric music

Kofi Jones.

You said he'd go down easy.

That's right.

He's got a lawyer now.

Fancy sister.

Big firm.

That's just
some pro bono bullshit.

You know
all the big firms do it.

It don't mean nothing.

She's up in the DA's face.

Threatening a trial.

Telling him your boy's ready
to flip his plea.

I got eyes on him in O.P.P.

Your facts are backwards.

My boy's staying strong.

All right.

Hope so.

This is the coolest spot

in the coolest spot
in New Orleans.

I suppose y'all think

what my man Deandre here
has accomplished

is something to behold.

Black-owned business.

Giving back to the community.

No. See, see, see,
that just a little appetizer.

I'm talking
about Black-owned Gentilly.

St. Roch.

- St. Roch, too.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

- Marigny!
- No, no, no, brother.

That ship done sailed.

Garden District.

- They gonna love me, too.
- Yeah, them, too.

Come on in, brother.

- It's all good.
- Hey, all right.

All right. All right.

It's simple, folks.

Don't shop where you can't work.

Wait a minute, wait a minute.

Do I got to hand out Q-Tips?
What I just say?

Don't shop where you can't work.

- Yeah!
- I heard that.

I'm punching one-handed
as Congressman.

Make me mayor
and see what happens.

Lee Delamere?

Lee Delamere?

What the hell you thinking,
Michael?

She'll get the case tossed,

and the whole thing dies,
Charlie.

You sure?

Jesus Christ.

And if she doesn't,

you think she's just gonna
up and walk away?

She's a Michael Desiato
protégée, for God's sake.

Her next move? She gets the kid
to open up on this,

explore his goddamn options.

He starts feeling loquacious.

- She starts digging up shit.
- No, she's looking the DA

right in the eye, and my money's
on the DA blinking.

- Now, if-if Kofi walks...
- Your money's on it?

What the hell is this,
a night at the fucking casino?

You playing roulette
with my life?

- I've got this, Charlie.
- I don't think you have.

What have you gotten me
into here, Michael?

- This is a felony.
- I'm sorry. Okay?

- Listen to me.
- No, no, no, no. Michael.

- Listen to me.
- Michael. No, no!

Fuck you!

Fuck you.

I'm sorry.

I'm very sorry.

And you're right.

I never should have...

Whatever happens,
I can manage Lee Delamere.

You fucking her?

You better be.

You need to be fucking her
to manage her.

Jesus, who are you?
W-Why are you talking like that?

Because you give me no choice.

Because my career
and everything I've worked for

could be over
because my best friend

just threw me
in the fucking deep end.

I got it.

I got all of it, Charlie.

They come here to die.

Just drop dead off of
the wall once a week.

And always on a Monday.

Just when my man Razim here
is on "clean up the yard" duty.

Take that.

Like a gift from heaven.

You know your bid yet?

Nah.

Well... whatever they hand down,

hearing the number's
gonna settle you.

Till you get there.

Where?

B.B. Rayburn. Wade, maybe.

Most likely Angola.

Meantime, we got your back.

You feel me?

Little Mo sent me word.

I got you.

Wow.

These are really good.

He's doing great.
He's got such sensitivity

and a real eye for detail.

His mother
would be proud of him.

Aw. That's nice.

It's what I think.

And very hardworking.

Yeah, he's... he's
really got something.

When routine bites hard

And ambitions are low

And resentment rides high

But emotions won't grow

And we're changing our ways

Taking different roads Then love

Love will tear us
apart again Love

Love will tear us apart Again

Does he seem...
distracted to you?

Maybe a little.

Anything you could
put your finger on?

Slow, suspenseful music

I mean, normally, he
would tell me, but...

Is he seeing anyone?

I mean,
does he have a girlfriend?

Did he tell you
that he has a girlfriend?

Because

if he didn't, it's not
really appropriate for me to...

I'm sorry.
You're right. Sorry.

What happened to his shoulder?

Yeah. You saw it.

Well, getting better.

We were wrestling.

Stupid, I know, but we've
been doing it for years,

and, well, just happened.

Ms. Latimer, I've been meaning
to speak to you.

When his mother died,

I know you stepped in.

I know you looked after him.

And that means a lot to me,

and I appreciate that.

So... thank you.

So, how'd it go?

There's a word everybody's
been too scared to use.

What's the word?

"Torture."

Jesus.

Okay.

- Okay.
- He thought

they were gonna kill him.

Well, you can't just stand up
in court and say,

"Your Honor,
my client's been tortured.

Please reduce his sentence."

I mean, Harris is 100% pro-cop.

He spends half his drinking life
drinking with cops,

so he's not gonna let anyone

assert anything like that
in his own courtroom

without backing it up.

So, evidence.

What have you got?

Okay, so... where
does that leave you?

Well, the judge will hate you
and hate your client

because you're besmirching
the good name

of his drinking buddies
in the NOPD.

So, end result,

possibly more years than less.

What... Why are you smiling?

I remember how you used to test
my arguments

by taking the other side

and arguing
the hell out of things.

You know, of all the clerks
over all the years,

I got to say...

- Don't embarrass me.
- Were in the top four.

- Five.
- Four?

- Yeah. Well...
- Thanks.

Okay. So, how are
you going to win?

The DA is in his office
right now

asking himself
one of those questions

that comes along roughly once
in the career

of a man like him.

Does he want a police brutality
scandal in the city,

or would he prefer it went away?

And the only way
he can make it go away

is if he drops the charges.

Slow, somber music

- Southpaw.
- What?

Thanks.

All right, just a couple more.

Left-handed.
You've never heard that before?

No.

One more.

- Hey.
- Hey.

She's gonna need yours, too.

Forensics.

So I can eliminate
your prints from the car.

Yeah.

We can do the,
witness statements now, too.

One-stop police work.

The world needs more cops
like you.

Never been easy
around flattery, Judge.

Makes me think
somebody wants something.

That's what I like about you.

There you go again.

Listen,
would you be breaking any rules

if I offered you a beer?

Well, only if I accepted it.

All right, well, I'll tell you
what I'm doing here.

I am going to place this bottle
onto the table...

...and what happens to it
after that

is not my jurisdiction.

I like your style, Your Honor.

So, technically,

I'm... supposed
to take you separately,

but...

you know.

So, um... the date
the car was stolen.

October 9.

And...

where was it parked?
Who drove it last?

Um...

You know, truth is,
I don't remember.

Do you?

Yeah,
people don't remember stuff.

I mean, unless they...
have a reason to.

I... Put a gun to my head,
I couldn't swear

I locked the front door
this morning.

I-I lied.

Sorry?

What do you... what do you mean?

T-to the cop.

The one who drove Dad home
from the impound.

I-I told him
I'd never driven Mom's car.

But I-I do drive it.

I mean... I-I did drive it.

Why'd you lie to him?

B-Because, um...

I used to drive it
when I was underage.

At 15.
Which is pretty illegal, I know.

A-And Dad being a judge and all,
I just...

When the cop asked me
if I drove it,

that popped into my head, and...

I lied to him.

I rode shotgun.

Nighttime loops around
the Superdome parking lot.

I think
the statute of limitations

has run out on that, Adam.

But... your dad,

I'm not so sure,
being a judge and all.

Mea culpa.

Latin for "I'm sorry"?

No. Latin for "my fault."

All right.

If you want
to take a look at these.

One job.

One fucking job.

Keep his family safe.

Boss.

I bought him the bike, Frank.

Wasn't the bike that killed him.

Tell that to Gina.

It was Desire payback.

For... a fight?

The kid was Desire-affiliated.

Part of the benefits package.

You get beat down,

they make sure
the other guy gets it worse.

It wasn't a fight.

Carlo kicked the shit
out of him.

But why would they wait all
this time to come back at us?

Fuck knows
how these people think.

What I do know is...
that if we do nothing,

we look weak.

They came for us,
we take it to them.

That's how it goes.

Then where does it end?

We go big.

We go big once,
and that ends it.

Soft, ominous music
She's pretty great.

You know?

Ms. Latimer.

Don't you think?

Hey.

Mom's Leica.

What about it?

I think it's terrific
that you're using it.

And I-I agree with Ms. Latimer.

Stop calling her that.

Well, it's her name.

She lets us call her
by her first name.

Which is...?

Frannie.

Frannie. Okay.

Frannie. I agree with Frannie.

I think your mom
would be very proud of you.

Don't do that.

Don't do what?

Act like everything is normal.

W... Like where I'm gonna go
to college

and how I'm doing
in school matters.

Of course it matters, Adam.

Please, just...

can you not go down this road?

I-I have to.

I mean, I-I have to, 'cause
you're not listening to me, Dad.

I mean...

Do you know
what day it is tomorrow?

Yeah.

It's Saturday.

Yeah, Saturday.

And life will go on,

and Saturday will be Saturday,

except that they
are burying Rocco Baxter, Dad.

Should I just pretend
that isn't happening?

Yes!

Yes!

That's what you do.

You have to move on.

Fuck.

He will be here.

I'm not burying my son
without my son.

Mom.

Slow, percussive music

Please rise.

O God,

by whose mercy
the faithful departed find rest,

bless this grave, and send your
holy angel to watch over it.

As we bury here
the body of our brother,

deliver his soul
from every bond of sin,

that he may rejoice in you
with your saints forever.

Through Christ our Lord.

Amen.

To you, O Lord,
we commend the soul

of Rocco, your servant;

in the sight of this world
he is now dead;

in your sight
he may live forever.

Forgive whatever sins he
committed through human weakness

and in your goodness
grant him everlasting peace.

Through Christ our Lord.

O God, by whose mercy
the faithful departed

find rest...

...bless this grave,

and send your holy angel
to watch over it.

As we bury here
the body of our brother,

deliver his soul
from every bond of sin,

that he may rejoice in you
with your saints forever.

Through Christ our Lord.

Amen.

To you, O Lord,

we commend the soul of Rocco,
your servant...

In the sight of this world

he is now dead.

In your sight,
he may live forever.

Forgive whatever sins he
committed through human weakness

and in your goodness grant him
everlasting peace.

Through Christ our Lord.

Shit.

Merciful Lord,

you know the anguish
of the sorrowful;

you are attentive
to the prayers of the humble.

Hear your people who cry out
in their need.

Ma'am, we've got to keep
at least 25 yards.

I'm his mother.

And his mother.

Let me hold my son.

Ma'am. Please.

If you don't move back,
we're gonna have

to take Mr. Baxter away.

My boy.

That's my boy.

- Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to...
- Don't touch her.

Don't you put your hands on me.

You have mothers.

You all have mothers.

- Royce here.
- Yes, sir.

Calling from the PD's office.

Got you clerking
on the weekends?

Yes, sir. Anyway, we noticed

that you've got a prisoner
headed your way.

Well, son of a bitch!

You get
an aggressive defense...

What happened?

Yeah, hang on.

No, I don't have
any transfers today.

Well, it-it... must
be last minute.

Got himself
a compassionate release.

Anyway,
he's headed your way now.

What the fuck is that?!

All right, the name is Baxter.

- What?
- Carlo Baxter.

Will you do us a favor
and move...

Jones, Kofi Jones,
into protective custody?

Yeah, he's the
hit-and-run perp, right?

Yeah, he has to be separated

until Baxter goes back
to Angola.

I got it. We'll "keep away" him.

Good, good. Great.

That name again is
"Kofi Jones."

And thank you, Sheriff.

Damn!

It's Carlo Baxter.

What?

The sentencing hearing.

What about it?

The DA is coming.

Robinson, in person.

He blinked, Michael.

They're dropping the charges.

- My God.
- We did it.

You did it.

Kofi goes free in the morning.

Jones, let's go.

What for?

The infirmary. Intake physical.

They stripped me down
when I got here.

Looked up every hole.
What else they want with me?

Your sheet says
"intake physical,"

so away we fucking go.

Somber, haunting music

Hey!

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Hey! Stop!

Stop!

Suspenseful music

What's going on in here?

They're trying to kill me!

Kid's crazy as a shit-house rat.

We're just doing our jobs here.

Come back later.

These are amazing.

- You wanted honest.
- Yes.

Are these honest?

Absolutely.

'Cause I'm a good liar.

Adam...

You know why
my shoulder's like it is?

I hit someone.

- You got in a fight?
- With my car. I...

- Wait. You...
- Shut up. Shut up. Please.

- Let me do this.
- Adam...

I can't know this.

You can't tell me this,
because if you do...

That kid,
the one that got killed...

- No, Adam...
- It was me.

I was driving... I... and I had
a stupid asthma attack, and...

and I couldn't breathe,

and I dropped
my stupid inhaler, and...

And he was making
this gurgling... sound.

My shoulder was all fucked up,
and I...

He was alive?

He-he was, but then he just...

His eyes just went... you know?

I was looking at him,
and he-he just couldn't...

He couldn't hang on.

And I left him.

I left him there.

Slow, haunting music

There's all different kinds

of juice in this world.

There's the juice we got in here

for getting small shit done.

There's the juice
you need out on the streets.

And then, there's Baxter juice.

That shit plays everywhere.

Inside, outside.

And it plays
on both sides of the law.

You can't go up
against that juice and win.

Not you, not me, not Desire.

So what do I do?

You tell me why I shouldn't be
in a cage or a fucking coffin.

It's okay.

Let's go.

I'm Kofi Jones.