All language subtitles for Blue Bloods - S2E21 - Collateral Damage.en

DANNY:
Previously on Blue Bloods...
Philip Sanfino, that's your guy.

Lieutenant,
so we're clear, um,

I'm not committing
to a career undercover.

You're giving off
some sort of cop scent.

What the hell
is that supposed to me?

Well, my uncle Phil
wants to talk

to you himself,
and you're coming in.

Phil, let's just talk
to him inside, okay?

If I want your opinion,
I'll ask you for it.

Now get inside and wait.

Get him out of the car.
All right, all right,

I got some things
to say, but...

James Riordan, you're wanted
for questioning in the murder

of one Johnny Tesla.

You want to come with us.

You have the right
to remain silent.

If you refuse to
answer questions....

Oh, come on,
let's go.

You're seeing a doctor.

End of story.

(groans)

I just need a roll of Tums.

Listen, that's the third time

you've had the stomachache
this week, okay?

And don't say it was something
you ate,

'cause I know what you ate;
you had ginger ale

and pretzels for dinner.

What, are you a doctor now?

No, I'm not a doctor,

but you have a
high-stress job,

you live alone, you have no
family that you see regularly,

no pets, no sports,
no hobbies.

I think you're a cover girl
for Ulcers Illustrated.

That's lovely, thank you.

The swimsuit issue
is what I meant.
Oh, right.

Definitely the
swimsuit issue.

I'll get you some help.

You ought to see if there's
a suicide counselor there

while we're waiting, too.

Miss,

we've been a couple hours here;
is there anything you can do

to try to,

you know, push things along?

Thank you.

Ramirez? Lydia Ramirez?

How's it going, sport?

Uh, it's just, uh...
(clears throat)

settled a friendly
bet the hard way.

Mm-hmm.

I'm a detective; anything
I can help you with?

Oh, no harm, no foul.
Mm-hmm.

I'd sure like to see
the other guy.

Well, he looks better than me.

What's your name?

Uh, Phil Gibson.
Uh, bloody hand.

Well, despite what the
sign says out front,

if you came here
'cause of an emergency,

you're in the wrong place.

Uh, no biggie; I just
want to get my nose looked at.

Well, good luck with that.

We'll just be sitting

right over here, okay?

Thank you.
My partner takes two sweeteners.

You got?
Sure.

How much do I owe you?

Oh, no, on me, please.

No, no, no, I can't do that.

I'm new on this block.

Better you tell
your fellow officers

that this is the best
coffee in town, yes?

If it is, I will,
but I'm still paying for it.

This is for you.

Whoa.
(chuckles)

Thank you, Officer.

Officer Reagan?

Detective Jones.

Please follow us
back to your command.

Why? What's this all about?

We have orders
to pull you in forthwith.

How come they didn't
just 10-2 me then?
Because clearly,

they didn't want the order
going out over the radio.

Right now please.

Curatola, Jacqueline.

All right,
here we go.

You'll feel better
in a few minutes.

Right. They're just
gonna give me Tums.

You want I should come
hold your hand?

You should.

(muttering)
Hey!

WOMAN:
Help! Help!

Help!

Hey, you all right, man?
(choking)

Hey, we need a doctor!

Get back.

Are you with him?
No, no.

Did he tell you anything?

He said something about
having a fight, but he was fine.

Sir, can you hear me?

Thank you, Detective.

This can't be good.

O.C.C.B. is picking up chatter
that Philip Sanfino's crew

has orders to put a hit on you.

Me or Jimmy Riordan?

Jimmy Riordan.

Apparently,
after we staged your arrest,

they sent a lawyer down.

And there was no client
for them to represent.

No, we just missed it.

We just never anticipated they'd
send someone to represent you.

Do they know I'm a cop?

We don't think so.

But it's probably worse if it's
someone cooperating with a cop.

So, what do we do?

You sit this one out
until we're certain

there's no longer a price
on your head.

CRAIG:
He died from unrelieved swelling

of the brain caused
by a severe concussion

and the resulting
frontal lobe hematoma.

Right, when I spoke
to him right before he died,

he gave me the impression
he was in some kind of fight.

The abrasions and contusions
would point to that,

except for one thing.

The hands.
Exactly.

Looks more like
he got a manicure

than had a beef.

So, what is this,
I'm grounded?
We got everybody

up on the O.C. wires trying
to find out more details,

but for right now, yes,
you are confined to this house.

For how long?

As long as it takes.

Do I have a curfew?

Can I stay up and
watch Jon Stewart?

You think this is funny?

No, I think it's ridiculous;
you wouldn't do this

to any other cop caught
in the same situation.

I damn sure would.

I just wouldn't have
them move in with me.

There's got to be something
I can do besides just sit here.

Well, my dining room chair's
a little wobbly.

I have some Gorilla Glue
in the garage.

I'll see you tonight.

You'd think it was him
they put a hit out on.

Take your worst fear,

multiply it by 100,

you're not even in the ballpark.

You're not even in the parking
lot next to the ballpark.

Thanks. Big help.

Look, you have to understand
the way your father thinks.

He's got such a deep sense
of responsibility

that when something goes wrong,
he takes it personally.

And his job is
to put 30-odd thousand people

in harm's way every day.

Try juggling that.

Okay, well,
sometimes around here,

it's like Danny's made of armor,
and I'm made of toothpicks.

Come on,

he's an equal opportunity
worrywart.

How am I supposed to walk around
with that on my shoulders?

That's for you to figure out.

He's not gonna change.

You clear, I'll clean.

MAN:
He was our colleague,

he was our friend,
but most of all,

he was our brother in arms,

and, um,

suddenly he's gone.

And, uh,

it sucks.

But the way to get through
this is to honor Phil

in all we do,

in all we achieve.

In the memory of one of our own
who is now behind the sun.

Come on, let's hear it for Phil

Excuse me, you
ladies did tell them

that I was a detective
with the NYPD, right?

They're almost finished.

Okay.

You know Phil?

Yes, of course.

Did you know if anyone
had a beef with him?

A beef?

Like some street-y thing?

Like a problem?

Can't think of anyone
who'd want to hurt him.

Mm-hmm. You?

Not here anyway.

Hi, Detective, I'm sorry
to keep you waiting.

I'm Josh Thorp; this
is Terry Longacre.

Um, should we take
it to our office?

Sure.

No calls.

He ever show up to work
like that before?

All beat up?

Only from a hangover.

Wait, wait, wait,
what was his line again?

Oh, uh, "I don't call it
a hangover anymore.

It's just the morning."

So, he had a drinking problem?

Not that ever got
in the way of his productivity.

I don't know
what you mean by that.

Look, Detective,

if you took all the
functioning alcoholics

out of the
financial industry,

you'd be left with, like,
two bond analysts and a ATM.

So, sure he drank.

How about gambling?
Any gambling problems?

We're all gamblers.

I mean,
serious gambling problems,

like he was into his bookie?

I mean,
there is a version of this story

where he caught
a real beat down.

Not that I ever heard of.

I mean, Philip played division
three hockey and lacrosse.

I mean, he knew his way
around a fight.

He have friends in the company?

People he hung out with
after work?

Uh, Larry, Brad, Jason.

Kenny, Rand.

I mean, guys he went
to school with.

I'll have Sara give you
their contacts on your way out.

Great.

Just out of curiosity,

what do you think
happened to him?

Well, same as you do, Detective,

uh, he got
into some sort of fight

and, uh, suffered an injury
the proved to be fatal.

I mean, it's a real tragedy

for all of us.

Mm-hmm. And you?

Yeah, ditto.

And we're gonna do
everything we can

to get to the bottom
of it as well.

What does that mean?

It means that
we're gonna have

our security team
look into it.

Your security team?

Yeah.
Oh.

With all due respect,

I'm not gonna trust
my financial assets

to the New York
City Comptroller.

I'm not gonna trust a human
asset to city services, either.

I'm not city services.

I'm a first grade detective

with the New York City
Police Department.

And I will not hesitate
for one second to lock up

anybody who interferes
with my investigation.

You understand?

Forgive my partner,
Detective.

Um, just in shock around here
this morning.

Very well.

They'll give me that list?

Yeah.

I can, uh, give them all
a heads up, if you like?

No, I wouldn't want you to spoil
the element of surprise.

They are his friends.

Yeah, well, you know,

even friends have stuff
to hide sometimes.

Um, did any of these guys
not show up for work today?

Simple question.

Rand Hilbert.

(elevator dings)
But he was scheduled to
fly for a meeting in Boston

on the first shuttle.

Okay, good to know.

Thanks for your help.

All right, thanks.

What do you got?
Rand Hilbert was booked

on a 6:00 a.m. shuttle to Boston

but was refused boarding
because of his quote,

"inebriated
and agitated state."

Then he's home?
No.

The night doorman says
he got in a town car

at 4:30 to the airport;
the day doorman says

he never returned home.

And the doormen
have your number?

Yeah, and they get
50 bucks to use it.

Show these guys a 20, they look
at it like it's a nickel.

Right, now even the doormen
are players.

All right,
then what the hell is this?

What?

I got an e-mail

from Philip.Gibson
@CortlandtStreetCapital.com.

A dead guy sent you an e-mail?

Apparently, he did.

596 West 2-8, 9:00 p.m.

Bring a $100 bill
with the word "damaged"

written on it--
that's your ticket.

Got a couple $100 bills on you?

Uh, no, but there's a bank

across the street
that's open till 5:00.

Great.

Let's make a withdrawal.

Thanks.

ARBOGAST:
I can't say as this

is good news or bad,

but we picked up further
intel on the hit.

It's now hits-- plural.

Phil Sanfino got orders to
take out his nephew, Noble.

What for?

What for?
For bringing you in,

or rather,
bringing Jimmy Riordan in.

Have they carried it out?

Not that we know of.

So we can still reach out
to him, right?

To who?

Noble.

That's a pretty fragile
ecosystem.

Uh, you know,
we got a lot at stake.

We can't compromise
the whole operation

for one wiseguy.

So, what... what,
Noble's just roadkill in this?

Jamie, we're not talking
about innocent bystanders here.

We're talking about the NYPD
handing down a death penalty.

Collateral damage.

On the side of
the patrol car

that I drive,

it says "courtesy,
professionalism and respect,"

not "judge, jury
and executioner."

That's out of line.

We cannot risk

letting Noble Sanfino know.

We're 36 hours out
from taking down the case.

I can't see how tipping
any of them

that we've got eyes and ears
isn't asking for trouble.

Unless you want to order it.

I won't do that.

And why can't we
move it up to tomorrow?

What are we waiting for, Vic?

Cavazzere's grandkid's
christening.

We're expecting a few of them
to come out of hiding to attend.

Let's just agree this
isn't everyone's finest hour.

(low chatter)

Girl, look, I got one, too.

See? He's already
seen my I.D.

Reagan.

Danny Reagan.
Gary Heller.

Looking good.
Stepping out?

Actually, I'm on the job.

Do you mind?

This is my partner,
Detective Curatola.

Oh... New York's finest.

Would you knock it off?

What are you doing
here anyway?

Working the, uh,
roofie concession here?

You know, Heller
worked, uh,

narcotics in the
2-1 for years.

Mmm.
Jamaicans were running

millions of dollars
through the streets.

But they never lost an ounce
on your watch, did they, Gary?

That's right. Yeah.

See you around, Regan.

Yeah, not if I see you first.

Flopped cop?

He flipped on some Jamaicans
in exchange for immunity.

Guy never met an
angle he didn't like.

(sighs) You know what?

I'm seeing a lot
of these bracelets.

I'm not seeing any bills.

You think we got duped?

I don't know.

Yes?

Not sure how this works.

Damaged?

All right.

Go ahead.

Thank you.

Excuse us.

Thank you.

(hard rock music blaring)

(cheering)

Boxing gloves.

That explains
the clean hands he had.

It's like cockfighting
for rich guys.

I'm going to go
look around.

I'll be back.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

There it is, man.
Get in there.

Watch the left!

Who do you got?

Nexmont. You?

Nexmont.

How big?

Oh, big.

How about you?

50K big.

Hit him!

(cheering and applause)

You guys here last night?

Yeah. You?

Did you see the fight with
the Cortlandt Street guy?

Yeah. He ended up
in the hospital.

Not surprised. He was getting
really clocked out there.

Uh-huh.

Who was the guy he fought?

It was another
Cortlandt Street guy.

They're the only firm
that will pit

two of their own
against each other.

Guy gave up like 20 pounds
and six inches of reach,

but it was like
he had a hammer.

Yeah, what was his
name, that guy?

Cortlandt Street,
they're all Ivy guys.

I don't know anybody
down there.

Ooh.

They got no bell here?

Bells are for cats.

Is this your first time?

(cell phone ringing)

Yeah, just checking it out.

Where you work?

One second.

Reagan.

You did?

Yeah, okay.

I'm on my way.

Um, I work here,

with the NYPD.

Your cards?

Good luck.

Excuse me.

Rand Hilbert
came back home, Jack.

We should head over.

Yeah.

It's time for his
post-fight interview.

Wow. Cortlandt Street
company cars.

Looks like they started
the party without us.

Yeah.

Hey. When did he get back?

Minute before
I called you.

Yeah? And how about
his visitors?

Uh, ten minutes
after that.

Apartment?

11-B.

We go up unannounced.

You got it?

(men's voices in distance)

You hear that?
Mm-hmm.

(man yelling)

(knocking)

Police. Open up.

Let's go.

Coming in!

Mr. Hilbert?

That's my father's name.

Would you put the bottle
down, please, sir?

I said put the bottle down now.

Cutting myself off.
Hey, easy, easy.

Sit down
and don't move.

My partner and I
just come from Damaged.

Who wants to go first?

Okay, then.

The first rule
of fight club is:

you will talk
about fight club now.

Detective, I'm Jack Quayle.
I know who you are.

Who's lawyered up?

I'm on retainer with the firm.

Oh, lucky for them.

Were you at the
fight last night?

(laughs)
Of course not.

Then get at the back
of the line.

None of us
were there.
Rand was there.

Weren't you, Rand?

You don't have to answer that.

You really want
to waste my time

making me go round up
witnesses, huh?

Go ahead. Go ahead.

Were you there or not, Rand?

Yeah. Yep.

And you were in the ring
with Mr. Gibson, weren't you?

Yeah.

Yeah, and you hit
Mr. Gibson, who later died.

Is that not true?
QUAYLE:
Detective, you talked

to Mr. Gibson
before he passed away.

And you know that how?

LONGACRE:
As I told you,

we're trying to get
to the bottom of this ourselves.

The point is, did he
say anything to you

about being forced
into the ring?

The point is,
we're asking the questions.

Whatever you say.

I had words with him.

Wasn't an interview.

But you identified yourself
as NYPD,

so, surely,
if there was some foul play,

he would have said something.

Not necessarily.

Is there a bathroom
here I can use?

Yeah, right through there.

Were you close, you and Phil?

(sighs)

We were brothers, man.

They went to prep school
and college together.

They were best friends.

And as you can see,
Rand here is crushed.

No, as I can see,
Rand here is a train wreck,

and you guys
are all up here

trying to get
your stories straight.

(stifled retching)

Whoa, whoa, whoa,
whoa, whoa, no.

That's the ladies' room
right now.

Use the sink.

Counselor, I need to interview
him as soon as possible,

so why don't you get him
straightened out, all right?

I will have Mr. Hilbert
ready at 8:00 a.m.

for an interview with you
and the ADA of your choice.

Oh, you'll do that?
Mm-hmm.

And you two,

you knew about this
when we met this morning,

and instead, you choose
to yank my chain instead?

That's not true.

We're piecing this together
just as you are.

We apologize if you got
the wrong impression, Detective.

Your money doesn't
make me stupid, all right?

And Mr. Quayle doesn't
make me shrink, either.

Yeah, and that fact,
if it is one,

doesn't make you right.
Shut up, Terry.

Take it easy.

Let's go, partner.

We'll see you bright
and early, Mr. Hilbert.

Try some tomato juice.

You find anything
in the bathroom?

Yeah, there
were meds for him

like a Marine coming back
from a third tour.

It's a bottle of alprazolam
prescribed to a girl.

Recent prescription.

Okay, what's alprazolam?

It's a generic for Zanny.

All right, and the
girl-- what's her name?

Sara Allen, Chelsea address.

Sara Allen is the name

of one of the assistants at
Cortlandt Street Capital.

That bottle full
when you cracked it?

Sir, yes, sir.

Stop at the halfway mark.

Wasn't doing
a damn thing anyway.

(sighs)

It isn't missionary work we do.

Yep.

You want me to go?
Just say so.

What would you do in my shoes?

Drink the neck and shoulders
off a bottle for starters.

Then?

You can't just go out
and find him.

His family has a hit out on
a guy who looks just like you,

and they're not gonna stop
and ask for I.D.

I know that.

And you can't tell him
you're a cop.

That would scratch
a pending bust

that's taken up thousands
of man hours

and should and must go down.

So what do I do?

I don't want to screw this up,

but I can't just stand by
knowing what I know.

Neither would you.

Don't tell the Commissioner
I said this...

that you want to make a move,

you keep those boundaries in
sight at all times.

Not a lot of room there.

A smart cop can find room
between a rock and a hard place.

Good night, son.

Good night.

Noble. You know what to do.

It's Jimmy.
You need to call me

as soon as you get this.

Sara the receptionist.

Did you give Rand Hilbert
your Zannies

or did you just leave 'em
at his apartment?

Neither.

Really? You know, I could
screw your weekend up

pretty easy if I
wanted to, Sara.

I dated Philip a little.

And Rand must
have lifted 'em.

Those two practically lived
at each other's apartments.

You and Philip Gibson,
you were close?

Not very.

You can't be,
with a guy like that.

Why not?

They're little boys.
Oh.

They're a lot of fun,
but you can't trust them

with anything breakable.

But I, uh, I cared about him.

You did care
about him.

Is that why you sent me
the e-mail?

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

Sure, you do. You wanted to
clear up how he was killed

so he could rest in peace.

Or so maybe you could
have a little peace, hmm?

Were Rand and Philip
forced to fight?

You mean, like, with a gun
to their heads?

No. It's a lot
more subtle than that.

What do you mean?

It's like at college when they
were pledging fraternities.

They didn't have to endure
all that humiliation,

but they weren't getting in
the frat if they didn't.

But no, no one was forced.

What about Longacre and Thorp?

They bet on the fight?

I can't say for sure,

but Longacre and Thorp will
literally bet six figures on

which bird flies
off the wire next.

Work with me here, Sara.

Look, I get paid 50 K for my
skills and another 50

to look good
and keep my mouth shut.

I've already said too much.

It was an accident,

tragic and sad, but an accident.

And I have a wake to go to.

All right, go on.

I do hear you, Detective,
but right now all I'm hearing is

that Mr. Hilbert and Mr. Gibson
stepped

into that ring voluntarily

to more or less audition
for the next Jackass movie.

It was stupid and tragic,

but there is no evidence that
Mr. Hilbert committed a crime.

Right.

What? So I'm free? Is that...?

My office is not charging you
with anything at this moment.

Thank you, Ms. Reagan.

No need for gratitude,
Mr. Quayle,

but I would appreciate it
if your client was available

to the detectives should they
need any further assistance

with the investigation.

I'll be at home.

I won't move unless
you ask me to.

Your friend

Gibby...

you know, he had
a reach advantage

and about a good 20 pounds
on you.

I sure would love to see
the gloves you had on.

They're in my gym bag in
the closet by the door.

Oh. So you're giving me
permission

to send my partner
to retrieve it?

No, wait, wait...
Absolutely.

Absolutely!

Do whatever you want with them.

I got nothing
to hide.

Great.

Sound like consent to me.

SANFINO:
Leave a message after the beep.

Yeah, Jimmy, it's Noble.

I'm sorry I'm late.
I'm almost there, all right?

(phone buzzing)

Yeah, man, where is this diner?

I'm at the corner of...

JAMIE:
What are you talking about?

You left me a message
to meet you at the diner.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Turn around and get back in
your car, Noble.

Get out of there!
What, What's going on!?

I left you a message
to call me, that's all.

I don't get it.

To tell you that there's a hit
out on you, too!

(tires squeal)

Noble?

(gasps)

(tires squeal)

Noble? Noble?

Noble? Noble?!

ERIN:
Enterprise Corruption,

it's under the
Organized Crime Control Act.
Yeah.

If you can find
hard evidence

that the partners had money
on the fight and hid it,
(phone rings)

or a paper trail that they
organized the event...

Yeah, Jack?

Yeah, I got the gloves.

They're right where
he said they'd be.

And?

And then nothing.

I'll get them right to
the lab. They're just regular

12-ounce standard gloves.

All right, look, hand-deliver
those gloves

to the lab regardless,
all right? Yeah.

And what would you have done?

What, What would
I have done?

I would have
stayed the...

I would have stayed out
of it...

the same way you should have.

Like it or not, gangster
justice is very efficient.

It saves taxpayer dollars.

Seriously? This guy
guy gets assassinated,

and that's all you've got?

He got what he deserved.

Where'd we adopt him
from, anyway?

Let's keep it civil.

This is civil.

Boys, help me clear?

But I'm not finished.

She means we're excused.
Oh.

Thank you, Nicky.

Jamie, Danny's not saying
that gangster justice is right.

If one person's a write-off,
then everybody is.

Your heart's bleeding

all over my good tablecloth.

Thanks.

Well, you're absolutely right.
The day we sit at this table

and make a pecking order

over who's expendable
and who's not is

the day we lost our way.

Yeah, but Danny's does have
a good point.

Well, that never happens.

(chuckles, phone rings)

Jamie, it's not
as if Sanfino was

an honor student that got hit
by a stray bullet.

Excuse me.
I mean, some things are
just proscribed.

What do you owe Danny for?
Yeah, Jack?

What are you talking about?

Danny has his own personal scale
of justice.

He has every right
to choose

who or what he's gonna lose
sleep over at night.

I'm on my way.

What's up?

Rand Hilbert's in the hospital.

For what?

Apparently, he inhaled
his medicine cabinet.

You know that "enterprise
corruption" you told me about?

Yeah.
Well, if that's all
I can bring,

can you at least see how much
damage I could do with it?

Yep.
I got to go.
Excuse me.

I'll talk to you later.
Gramps, Dad.

Excuse me, too.

A hundred years ago at this
family's Sunday dinner,

at least one brother
or uncle at the table

would have been a priest.

(chuckles)

You're talking about Jamie.

Is he still alive?

He took a bullet
and survived.

Will he meet you?

It's not possible under
the circumstances.

You want to give him a chance
to save himself?

Everybody deserves that.

Call him and tell
him to meet you.

Where?

I can think of one safe place.

DANNY:
What is it, Mr. Hilbert?
What happened?

I... (sighs)

I went down and asked
to see the gloves,

and they showed 'em to me.

The boxing gloves?

Yeah.

I started to think...

it seemed like every punch
I landed had more on it

than it felt like.

Gibby was, like,

rocked a few minutes into it.

And I'm-I'm no great boxer.

The gloves we tested,

the ones my partner took
from your apartment,

were they yours?

No.

No, they were, they were
the same,

but they were different.

Well, what does that mean?

Mine, I-I I lifted from my
school's athletic department,

and they had
a little "property of" tag

on the inside if the cuff.

But not the one you guys had.

Are you sure about this?

Yeah.

Listen, listen, do you have
any idea

who would want
to switch the gloves?

It's all right.
Take, take it easy.

Take it easy, all right?
Just...

All right.

(panting, groaning)

Just tell me what the hell
is going on.

DANNY: Listen,
it's all right.

Nurse.

Well, who besides
building staff

would have access
to Mr. Hilbert's apartment?

To Mr. Hilbert's?

No telling.

What do you mean?

Mr. Gibson,
Mr. Hilbert--

their apartments are owned
by the company they work for.

Uh, Cortlandt something.

Cortlandt Street Capital.

Yeah.
Uh-huh.

The whole "B" line, from floors
eight to 12, they own.

They put the new hires there,
six months free rent.

We don't know
who else has keys.

Your security cameras,

they record to a hard drive
over here or something?

State of the art.

We're going to need
a copy of that.

*

I'm a police officer
with the NYPD.

What's your name?

Just call me Jimmy.

Officer Jimmy.

About a half an hour ago,

John Cavazzere
was placed under arrest,

along with four
of his lieutenants

and 13 other known associates.

This concerns me how?

Your uncle,
Philip Sanfino,

was also placed under arrest,
along with Escalade Bobby

and six other of his associates.

Among the charges against him

is conspiracy
to commit murder-- of you.

Well, it never happened, so...

(sniffs)

It's all on the wire.

Made you a mix tape.

Funny guy.

If you agree to testify
and cooperate,

you'll be put back
in contact with your sister,

who's already agreed

and been relocated
with a new identity.

She never would.

She already has.

FRANK: He never would
have lasted as a priest.

Why do you say that?

He's got the conscience,
but not the humility.

Or you can walk away
right now

and spend the rest
of your life

looking over
your shoulder.

You know they'll
find you.

What's it going to be?

DANNY (sighs):
Seriously, how much

more of this do we
got to plow through?

13 hours.
Oh.

13 hours.

(sighs)

Ooh, zoom in on that guy.

It's Gary Heller.

JACKIE: Looks
like he's looking

right at you.

Yeah, you know, Longacre
and Thorp said they had

their own security
investigating this thing.

Dollars to donuts
Gary Heller's

got a private
investigator's license.

Come on.

* I'm-a need to see

* The whole crowd yellin'
* Hey *

* I'm-a need to see
the whole crowd yellin' *

* Hey *
* And if you're feelin' it

* Feelin' it,
put your hands up *

* If you're feelin' it,
feelin' it *

* Put your hands up...
Excuse me, miss.

Would you, uh, give Mr. Heller
and I a moment, please?

Grab a booth, honey.

Order a couple
of the osso buco.

I wish it were anyone
but you, Reagan.

Yeah, well...

I think you have
something I need.

Figured I might.

Hence making sure
I got my picture taken.
Right.

Where are the gloves?

My office,
two blocks away.

You check them out?

Nope. Bagged them in plastic

just as I found them,
made the switch.

No questions asked?

Only from myself to myself.

And what did yourself think?

Someone had heavy money
on that fight,

wanted some insurance.

Oh, so you suspected something.

Then why not
just bring the gloves in?

Because I'm a private eye now.

My loyalties are to my clients,
not the NYPD.

Oh, right.

But you did say
that you made sure

to get your picture taken

just in case we wanted
to look into something.

I never said that.

It'd be bad for business.

Right.

Dundee.

Two more Cutty and water
for the booth with the lady.

Those two are on me.

Hey.

I'll get the gloves,
be back in five.

You know, there's...

there's one thing
that I don't get.

What's that?

What is in
this for you?

I get to sleep at night.

Oh.

And that's all, huh?

JAMIE:
It's a lot,

your conscience
means anything to you.

(laughs)
There's an assistant
United States attorney

ready to talk to you.

All I get's an assistant, huh?

Right.

Oh, okay,
so this conscience of yours,

it-it lets you...

gain people's trust--
perfect strangers--

and then you screw them over?

That's not what went down here.

No?

No, you're not
perfect strangers.

You're criminals, and I'm a cop.

Okay, let's go.

You're a weasel with a badge.
Now, Sanfino.

You're alive because of me.

And you're welcome.

DANNY:
Hey.

JACKIE:
Hey.

What did the lab say?
Well, apparently,

some kind of saltwater solution
was injected into the gloves.

Made the padding hard and made
the leather like sandpaper.

For what?
I have no idea.

Maybe so this guy could get
an edge on his bet on the fight.

I don't know.
How much can one guy eat?

I mean, what's he
going to win in the bet

that he can't already
afford to buy?

I don't know.

The whole thing
makes me sick, seriously.

Let's go arrest this mutt.
Maybe you'll feel better.

Wonderful.

Hello, ladies.

Excuse us.

(laughter)

Hey, gentlemen.

Good afternoon.

Calling you back.

You've got no right
to just barge

in here like this.
Actually, we do.

Josh Thorp,
you're under arrest

for murder in
the second degree. Get up.

Get up!

Come on. Hands
behind your back.

Josh, what's
going on?

Well, Josh doctored
Hilbert's gloves. Yeah.

Oh, and then he sent
a private investigator

over to Hilbert's apartment

to switch out the gloves
the day after Gibson died.

What?

Yeah, and now
Gibson's dead

just so Thorp
could win a bet with you.

Josh?

You have the right
to remain silent,

although it seems
like you got that memo.

You know, for two smart guys,
you really are stupid.

I mean, you know
the price of everything,

but you know
the value of nothing.

Get him out of here.

Come on.

I don't have anything
on you yet,

but you are my new
favorite hobby.

See you around.

Dad.

Oh. I'm off.

Well, it was good
to have you here,

even under
the circumstances.

Good to be here.

Thanks for having my back.

Any time and every time.

Seems that I see
the best in people

even when nobody else can.

Just the way I'm built.

Hmm.
That's got to be an asset
in some line of work,

but I think it may be
a handicap... for a cop.

Just something to think about.

Good night, Dad.

Night.

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