All language subtitles for Brooklyn.Nine-Nine.S05E14.HDTV.x264-SVA

Oh, yeah.

I'm Philip Davidson.

Detective Jake Peralta
asked me to drop by.

Mm, the dentist who murdered someone.

Spoiler alert: they think you did it.

Can you show him to
Interrogation Room C, please?

- Have fun in there.
- Thank you.

What are you smiling about?

How uncomfortable this guy is.

Jacked up the thermostat,
got the table all sticky,

made one of the chair legs
too short, and worst of all,

I had Gina greet him.

- What did you have her do?
- Be herself.

- Poor son of a bitch.
- Yeah.

Why are you wearing a tuxedo?

Kevin and I are attending the opera.

Ooh, the opera.

Is it the one Bugs Bunny sings?

- Yes.
- Okay.

- So, who's this?
- This is Philip Davidson.

- What do we have on him?
- Clear motive,

clear means, and a nonexistent alibi,

but the DA won't bring a charge

because he says it's all circumstantial.

We want to bring this guy down,
have to get him to confess

right here, right now.

Mm. An interrogation
with a ticking clock

and everything on the line?

I better call Kevin and tell him
I won't be attending the opera.

There's someone else
I'd rather hear sing.

- Oh, damn!
- Hello, Kevin.

I won't be joining you
at the opera tonight...

Oh, sorry, I didn't know you
were on the phone already.

- Oh, damn!
- It's under my name, H-O-L...

Sync & corrections by emeline-whovian
www.addic7ed.com

You're right. He did it.

But we have no murder weapon,
no witnesses,

and you really didn't find any
usable forensic evidence?

The body was discovered
rotting in the Pine Barrens.

It'd been rained on for weeks
and chewed up by coyotes.

The only other DNA other than the vic's

was some bear semen found in the hair.

- Right. Who found the body?
- Hikers.

You're really just gonna blow
past the bear semen detail?

I imagine a bear mistook
the rotting corpse

for a female of its species
and had intercourse with it.

- Nothing I haven't seen before.
- It isn't?

Let's get in here.
Start working this guy.

Oh. You're gonna come in with me.

I just thought maybe
you'd watch from out here,

you know, pull me out when
I'm getting too hot.

Call me a loose cannon.

You know, classic Captain stuff.

Peralta, do you know

what I miss most about
being a detective?

A good interrogation.

Breaking suspects down.

Talking quietly and then
talking real loud.

Looking away and then looking
right in their eyes.

Leaning.

- That was amazing.
- So, can I join you?

Well, a lot of these
techniques do work better

with two people:
you know, good cop/bad cop,

crazy cop/sane cop,

fast-talking streetwise cop
and Hong Kong cop,

AKA the "Rush Hour."
You know what? Let's do this.

Let's break this son of a bitch!

- Hello, Philip.
- Detective.

This is Captain Raymond Holt.

He's a bit of a legend
in interrogation circles.

Hey, Cap, who's the scariest
person you've ever gotten

- a confession out of?
- Connie Buttons.

Okay, thought it was gonna
sound a little cooler,

but no matter.
So, shall we recap the night

that Robert Tupper was murdered
Friday the 22nd?

I believe you were the last person
to see him alive, correct?

No. I'd imagine whoever
killed him saw him after I did.

Ooh, nice dodge.
You're quick, like a cat.

- Like a dancer.
- Like Great Tiger.

From "Mike Tyson's Punch-Out."

He could teleport around the ring.

Most people thought it was
impossible to get past him.

I beat him every time.

You just punch him when he gets dizzy.

Really?! I mean, duh.

- Everyone knows that.
- Tell us about Friday.

I had a late afternoon surgery.

Simple gum graft.
It wrapped around 6:00,

and then Robert and I talked after.

And who else was in the office?

Our hygienist and anesthesiologist

had gone home, and Grace,
who usually locks up,

had left early because her
grandson had a school play.

So it was just you and Robert.

- No witnesses?
- That's lucky.

It wasn't lucky because
there was nothing to witness.

Robert just wanted to talk about firing

one of our office assistants, Cheryl.

- And that's all you discussed?
- Yeah.

- Nothing else?
- Nah.

Zero other subjects were mentioned?

- None.
- Not even how gross gum grafts are?

They're really not that gross.

Liar! About the gum graft thing,

and about the meeting.

We just talked about Cheryl.

Right. And, of course,
there's no way for me

to check if that's true, because

because whoever took Robert's phone
wiped all of his calendars.

Except... it was all backed up
on his home laptop.

Would you like to hear what he
said the meeting was about?

"7:00 p.m. Talked with Philip about..."

Missing meds.

Ooh. Did I get that right?

Uh, yeah.

But "missing meds" hardly
sounds like "firing Cheryl,"

so maybe you want to explain...

He thought Cheryl was stealing Diazepam.

That's why he wanted to fire her.

Any other questions?

Uh...

Boy, you really thought you
had him with that one, huh?

- Well, I...
- You got so excited for it.

Let me guess, you, ah,
practiced that notebook flip?

- Well, yes, obviously.
- I'd like to move on,

unless you have any other
big revelations in here.

Let's see. "From Gomez: Dear Morticia,

I feel so happy when I'm wit' ya."

I was just spit-balling
wedding vows there.

So you said you and Robert
were partners,

but it was Robert's name
on the business, correct?

Yeah. He started the practice
and then I joined after.

Uh, Captain, something's
come up in the case.

Can I talk to you outside for a sec?

What the hell are you doing in there?
You totally undermined me.

I know, and I apologize,
but I'm executing a strategy.

Oh, really, and what
strategy might that be?

Make Jake feel like an idiot,

or make Jake feel self-conscious

about his Addams Family-themed
wedding vows rap?

No, I want Philip to
underestimate you and fear me.

I'll badger him with
my superior intellect,

while simultaneously belittling you.

Once Philip dismisses you as a threat,

I'll leave you alone with him,
and he'll let his guard down.

If I didn't know any better,
I would say you're describing

smart cop/dumb cop.

Look, I thought you had him
on the calendar reveal.

But he was a step ahead.

You got flustered, and I realized

in the moment we could
use this to our advantage.

So what do you want me to do,
ask stupid questions?

Stupid questions, grammatical errors,

lose your train of thought,
just ask him to confess...

ooh, relate everything back
to those movies you've seen.

Kinda seems like a shot at me
about "Die Hard," but okay.

This is not a comment on you, Peralta.

I just want to bring this guy down.

Yeah, that's all I want too.

And to possibly say,
"You can't handle the tooth."

You know, if it comes up naturally.

- It won't.
- It might.

I actually think... it can't.

So what do you say?

Me want to.

- Dumb cop.
- I got that.

- Yeah.
- Well done.

- Mm-hmm.
- So, the night of the murder,

you met with Robert
in the surgical suite.

Why there? Why not your office?

Uh, just preparing for
the next day's surgeries.

Don't you have an assistant
who does that?

I'm a meticulous person.
I'm careful how I do things.

So careful that you...

I'm sorry, I forgot what
I was gonna say.

Come back to me.

Now, we did a sweep of the room

where you and Robert fought.

- Talked.
- Right, talked.

- The entire room had been scrubbed.
- It had been cleaned.

It had undergone
industrial sterilization

to remove all traces of blood and DNA.

It's a surgical suite.

People bleed in there every day.

We have to sanitize it by law.

Ooh, I remembered what I was gonna ask.

- Did you kill him?
- No.

Ah! If you had said yes,
I woulda had you!

So, after you and Robert fought...

- Talked.
- You left the office,

but you didn't take your car?

I went to a bar, The Scotchman.

I didn't want to drive drunk,
so I took a cab.

And you didn't have your phone?

I left it charging in my office

and I didn't realize till I was
already out of the building.

Oh, man, if I go ten minutes
without looking at my phone,

my pumpkin crop dies on my little farm.

This is not the time

for stories about your
digital squash, Peralta.

- Fine.
- Talking about your phone.

Why does it matter that I forgot it?

Ohhh, if I had it on me,

you could've seen it
pinging off the cell tower.

Doesn't matter. Didn't have it on me.

So you took a cab to this bar.

Well, we talked to the
employees of the Scotchman.

- Nobody saw you there.
- Nobody remembers seeing me.

But let me ask you this...
did you kill him?

Nah. You know, it's not surprising

nobody remembers seeing me.

The bar was extremely
crowded that night,

and I spent my whole time in the corner

talking to this woman, Dana.

Oh, so you said.

But when we ran all
the credit card receipts,

nobody named Dana bought
any drinks that night.

Trust me, Dana wasn't
buying her own drinks.

- No?
- No.

Okay.

- Hold on.
- Hm?

I need to deal with this.
Let's take a five.

Or... I could keep this
interview going solo.

Of course. I'm sure that'll be, um...

pretty helpful.

All right. Where should we
start-a-rooski?

Don't you think maybe
we should just wait

till your boss comes back?

Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?

Because you're scared.

You know I'm playing hardball,

except for that the balls are questions.

And here they come.

What kind of car did Robert drive?

Also, Dana from the bar,
what color was her hair,

and which night does the cleaning crew
sterilize your office,

and have you ever been up
to where the body was found,

and when you left your phone
at the office,

was it plugged into your
computer or an outlet,

and did you kill him, and what
did your cab driver look like?

This seems like a huge waste of time.

But, here you go.

Robert drove a Saab,
Dana's hair was blonde,

they sterilize on Wednesdays
and Saturdays,

I haven't been to Vernon in 20 years,

the phone was plugged into the wall,

no, I didn't kill him,

and the cab driver had a beard
and an earring...

I sorry I didn't get his license number.

Wow.

- Very impressive.
- Yeah.

You didn't fall for my
"did you kill him" gambit.

No.

Although it is interesting that you knew

the body was found in Vernon, New York,

when that information hasn't
been released to the public.

Well, hello, Dolly.

_

I can't believe you thought
I was the dumb cop.

I mean, I've watched "Planet Earth."

With the British narrator.

I can tell you anything
you want to know about

"three-toed slow-ths"

and I got you to say you knew
where the body was found,

which kinda seems like something

only the murderer would've known.

Actually... Robert's wife told me.

I've been talking
with her a lot, comforting her.

We asked her not to share that info,

and she promised us she didn't.

Well, she's been distraught.
She might not remember.

Uh-huh. Flimsy. So what
did you mean when you said

that you hadn't been
to Vernon in 20 years?

My uncle has a cabin there.
I would visit him as a kid.

Wow. So your uncle owns a cabin

in the town that the body was found.

That is quite a coincidence.

I haven't been there for 20 years.

You can call my uncle if you want.

Oh, we are. So you might
as well just confess now,

or we can take our sweet time like...

the mer-jestic slow-th.

Either way, we've got you.

- We don't have him.
- But I just told him we did have him.

Philip's uncle said he hasn't
been to the cabin in months

and he hasn't spoken to Philip
in over a year.

Well, what about the neighbors?

There's only one other house
off that road

and we haven't been able
to contact the owner.

Yeah, but Philip doesn't know that.
He's rattled right now.

We tell him the neighbor saw him
that night, he'll crack for sure.

- So you want us to lie?
- No, I want me to lie

and for you to stand behind me

and say, like, three

oh damn 's when I really get cooking.

All right, fine, two oh-damns.

- One oh-damn?
- There will be no oh-damns.

But it will be so satisfying
in your deep, powerful voice.

- We're not lying.
- It's legal.

The Supreme Court said that
we're allowed to lie

in an interrogation.

I told a perp that I knew
Steph Curry a couple days ago.

It had nothing to do with the case,

- but I could say it.
- It's a tactical mistake.

You're guessing what
happened that night.

But what if Philip never
went to the cabin?

He did. I can feel it here.

- Your stomach?
- No, my gut.

Your gut, or intestines, is lower.

You should point down here,
closer to your pubis.

- I'm good.
- Suppose you're wrong.

Now Philip knows we have nothing.

There goes our credibility
and our leverage.

No, we need a different strategy,

All right, fine. How about this...

I convince him I'm unstable.

I run in there screaming,

I throw a chair through
the two-sided mirror,

glass goes everywhere. He's like,

"If Mad Dog Peralta will do that,

who knows what else he's capable of?"

No offense, but you don't
get angry well.

What? That's not true.
Remember how angry I got

about how fast Daenerys
got from Dragonstone

to north of the Wall?

That was intense.

You have a boyish face
and a big goofy grin.

It's like being yelled at
by a children's cereal mascot.

Hey, some of those are scary.
Count Chocula much?

All right, fine, I see your point.
What do you suggest?

Let's get all up in his personal space.

- Make him feel uncomfortable.
- Okay, fine.

Let's get intimate.

_

So, Philip, you're
hanging out at the bar

with "Dana."

How late did you stay?

I got in the cab around 3:30.

Kinda hard to find
a cab in that neighborhood.

Why not a ride-sharing service?

Didn't have my phone, remember?

- Did you talk to the driver?
- No.

What route did you take?

I don't know, I was watching Taxi TV.

- What was on?
- Fallon highlights.

- What was he doing?
- Slow-jamming the news.

- Who was the guest?
- Amy Adams.

- Who's that?
- Famous actress.

- Why would you...
- Wow.

You got some old silver
fillings in there.

You probably want to drill those out,
replace 'em with porcelain.

- Okay, but why...
- And that is some serious plaque buildup.

- Let's get back to...
- No, no, no.

Open wider. Let me see.

Good God, when is the last time
you had a cleaning?

Damn it!

Not only did we not break him,
but now I have to go to the dentist?!

We need a new strategy.

And all this dental talk

has given me an idea.

- Okay.
- _

We have a few more questions
for you, doctor.

Doctor. Huh.

It's funny when people
call dentists "doctor."

We are doctors.

We do four years of medical school.

Yeah, but it's called "dental school."

But we learn about the entire body.

But if you had cancer,
you wouldn't call a dentist.

You know it's actually harder
to get into dental school

than medical school.

Well, because there
are fewer dental schools.

Because most people want
to become actual doctors.

That's ridiculous. It's not
like we're college professors

calling ourselves "doctors."

- Not the same thing, my friend.
- Well, sure it is.

When someone has a heart attack
on a plane,

do they yell out, "Yo, does anybody
here have an Art History PhD?"

A PhD is a doctorate.

It's literally describing a doctor.

- Maybe let's refocus.
- No!

The problem here is that
medical practitioners

have co-opted the word "doctor."

- Okay, Captain...
- I know we live in a world

where anything can mean anything,

and nobody even cares about etymolo...

Apparently that's a trigger for me.

Yeah, apparently.

So... now can we lie?

No, no. But you know what often works?

Making him confront his victim.

_

Look your dead friend in the eyes

and say his name.

Robert.

Okay, maybe say his full name.

- Robert Tupper.
- His middle name's Henry.

Robert Henry Tupper.

His wife called him Rob. Work that in.

- Rob Tupper.
- Work it into the full name.

Robert "Rob" Henry Tupper.

Now say it with a frown on your face.

Robert "Rob" Henry Tupper.

Now try not to blink,
so tears come to your eyes.

Robert "Rob" Henry Tupper.

Man, this guy is a good murderer!

There's got to be some way to break him.

Wait a minute. I just had an idea.

Two, three, four.

Yeah, I really got to stop
trying that. It never works.

_

Tell us more about your
relationship with Robert.

We've been over this a thousand times.

We got along well.

So you never fought, at all.
About anything.

I mean, we worked together.
We disagreed sometimes.

But we had a good partnership.

He never, for instance, skipped a party

so he could micromanage me
as I tried to do my job.

That's what's happening here, right?

That's why you're wearing the tuxedo?

I skipped the opera,
not a party; it's no big deal.

Yeah, it's the Bugs Bunny one.

And I'm not here to micromanage anyone.

I'm here because I enjoy
interrogating scum.

- Scum like you.
- That was implied.

I just thought we had
a good rhythm going.

- We do.
- I know.

- Okay.
- Okay.

You don't think the fact
that he skipped the opera

has anything to do with
him not believing in you?

He believes in me.

Okay. Why did he make you dumb cop?

He didn't make me dumb cop,

not that it's any of your business.

We agreed on it as a strategy.

Right, but why wasn't he dumb cop?

Please. You never would
have bought that.

- What?
- It's just that, um,

between the two of us,
you are more believable as a...

- Dumb cop?
- Yes, dumb.

Uh, the-the dumber of two smart options.

Wow. Rough.

All right, that's enough.
You're not interrogating us.

- We're interrogating you.
- Exactly.

Tell us about that Diazepam.

If Cheryl didn't take it, then who did?

Because we're pretty sure it was you.

Honestly, it could have been
any one of our employees.

They all have access
to the storage room.

You know, it's silly, but, uh...

I trust the people who work for me.

I'm telling you,
Captain Holt is only in here

because I want him here.

Really? So you're in charge?

And all those strategies you've
been coming after me with,

those were all your ideas?

Right. The guitar thing was mine.

And you signed off on that?

- Well...
- Seriously?

- Ooh, this is sad.
- Shut up.

- I just feel bad for you.
- I said shut up.

Your boss thinks you're
an idiot; that can't feel good.

All right, listen, you son of a bitch,

you think you're smarter than us?

You think you've gotten away with it?

You haven't. We're gonna find something.

One skin cell, one eyelash,

one tiny inconsistency in your story,

and you're gonna spend the rest
of your life in prison.

Everyone who loves you will leave,

and you will die alone!

And at that time, it will be your head

that a bear has sex with!

I'm pretty sure you're going for angry,

but in my mind, it just seems like

when a Muppet gets upset
and starts going like...

Oh, you want angry?

I'll show you angry!

Do you feel like I lost the upper hand?

Because I still think it's about 50/50.

I told you getting angry wouldn't work.

Well, your brilliant ideas
haven't gotten us anywhere either.

I'm telling you, the only thing
that's gonna work

is lying about the cabin.

That would be a huge mistake.

- It'll work.
- No, it will backfire

and jeopardize the entire case.

Oh, so Philip is right,
you don't trust me at all.

Stop it! You know you're
one of my best detectives.

So let me do this my way.

I did. I let you do it your way,

and it was a disaster.

I had to jump in with
the dumb cop gambit

to rescue the interrogation.

I'm sorry.

I know you're frustrated, Peralta.

But the fact is, we don't have enough.

We may not get a confession.

It happens.

You're right.

I'm sorry.

This guy has just really
gotten under my skin.

- Mine too.
- I'm gonna go to the bathroom

and try and clear my head.

- I think that's a good idea.
- Good.

Oh, no, Peralta, what are you doing?

Guess what, you dick?

I just got off the phone with Vernon PD.

Oh, no, no, no.

Your uncle's neighbors
saw you go into the cabin

the night of the murder.

They ID'd your photo.
I've got you dead to rights.

Interesting.

But, uh, my uncle only has one neighbor,

and I'm pretty sure
he didn't identify me.

Oh, really? Because you were so careful?

Because he's been dead three years.

Well.

I'm friends with Steph Curry.

So...

_

So, this is how it looks to me.

You were lying in an attempt
to frame my client.

No, no, no, no. Look
Even if we were lying

- about having a witness...
- Which you are.

- The neighbor's dead.
- No, it could've been a squatter

or a hunter or a squatting hunter,
not all hunters have homes...

Peralta's point is, legally,
he can say whatever the hell he wants

- in an interrogation.
- True.

But that doesn't
play so well with juries.

You screwed up, and my client's leaving.

No! He can't leave until I dismiss him.

You've had him for ten hours

and 45 minutes.

15 more and we file a harassment claim.

Great! Then I'll just
keep him for 14 minutes.

Seriously? Just to be childish?

Yuh doy!

I told you not to lie!

What were you thinking?!

I thought it would work.

And I wanted to be the one that got him.

Is this about your ego?

Are you that desperate for everyone
to know how great you are?

It's not about everyone.

Okay? It's just...

I wanted you to know.

Oh, my God.

I got it!

He's not answering any questions.

That's okay. I have no questions.

That's right.
I'm about to monologue, son.

You better make it quick.
You only got eight minutes.

All right, then let me
paint you a picture...

of Philip, a successful periodontist

that's become addicted to Diazepam,

a sedative I take because
I'm junkie scum.

Also, for real, addiction is a disease.

I would be super empathetic
if you hadn't murdered a man.

- What is the point of this?
- I'll get there.

So, one day I'm working late when
my boss Robert surprises me.

He found out I was stealing meds...

again, junkie scum...
also again, not your fault.

There's a major genetic
component to addiction.

He says he's gonna file a police report.

I could lose my license.

We fight, and something
in me just snaps,

so I grab the first thing I can
find, and I hit him with it.

You still have no murder weapon.

I do now. Here's a pic I found on Yelp

of the surgical suite six months ago,

and here is a shot that our
crime scene photographer

took of the same room two weeks
after the murder.

- Notice any differences?
- We're not answering that.

That's all right, I can just
tell you myself.

The Yelp shot has six of these
heavy-looking glass awards

from the Brooklyn Periodontics Society

in the background, whereas
this shot only has five.

What happened to number six?

- Murdered Robert with it!
- I didn't.

You lost all control and you
bludgeoned him to death.

There must have been blood
everywhere, but you got lucky.

You were in the surgical
suite; it can be sterilized.

You never would have gotten away
with it in your carpeted office.

- That's not what happened.
- Don't say anything more, Philip.

And your office manager would
have heard all of the screaming

but she was at her grandson's play.

- Lucky again.
- You're wrong.

You put Robert's body into a wheelchair

and shoved it in the elevator.

It's a miracle there
wasn't blood everywhere.

- That's not true.
- Now you're in the garage with a corpse.

You panicked and left
your phone in your office,

and you don't have your car keys,

but Robert's are in his pocket
so you put him in his car

- and you take off.
- No.

- You can't believe what you've done.
- No.

- Philip.
- You're flustered.

You have no GPS,
so you just start driving.

- No!
- Philip!

Next thing you know,
you're in the Pine Barrens,

and it hits you: your uncle's cabin.

He has a place there.

You're the luckiest son of a bitch...

- It wasn't luck!
- Yes, it was.

- You got lucky at every turn!
- No.

I knew exactly where I was driving,

I left my phone in
the office on purpose,

I was in the surgical suite by design,

and I didn't use some glass award

that any idiot would
clearly see was missing.

I made a rod out
of a special dental polymer,

killed him with it,
then melted it back down.

It's already in a patient's
mouth... son!

Oh, damn.

Oh, damn.

Oh, damn!

And that is three oh-damns.

Oh, damn!

Ohhh. Fresh air.

Wow, I don't say that a lot.

There's one thing I still
don't understand.

Did you know you had
the wrong murder weapon?

Ah, excellent question, sir.

Yes. I spotted the missing dental award

when I first took the case.

I asked around weeks ago.

Turns out a cleaning lady
knocked it over and shattered it.

Then why did you run in there like that?

Because in talking to you,

I realized what Philip's
worst fear actually was:

that we would think he was just
some dummy that got lucky.

Right.

He had planned the perfect crime.

And it killed him when you said
he was sloppy and impulsive.

He needed us to know how smart he was.

Right. Like someone else I know.

Yup.

Kevin.

I'm proud of you, Peralta.

Thank you, sir.

Now let's go get some sleep.

Hey, guys.

My goodness. We're almost late for work.

Oh. Well, in that case,

good morning, sir.

Good morning, Peralta.

God, I love this job.

Sync & corrections by emeline-whovian
www.addic7ed.com