01x07 - One Way to Get Off

[bunniefuu]

(woman sobbing quietly)

(g*nsh*t, woman screams)

Good morning.

And to you, as well.

Okay. This has to stop.

This only speaking when spoken to thing?

You're obviously angry that I went to your friend Alistair and that he told me you knew someone named Irene.

You think I overstepped my bounds.

Hadn't thought about it that much at all, actually.

We both know that's not true.

And guess what-- I'm your sober companion.

It's my job to overstep polite boundaries.

Part of recovery is about addressing painful things.

If you ignore them, they become triggers.

Could you sh**t all this to me in an e-mail?

I'm just much better at processing the written word.

I'm gonna stay after you about this, because I know how important it is.

But if you won't talk to me, there's only so much I can do.

(cell phone chimes)

What is it? You're right.

I have been cutting you off.

It amounts to sulking, and it is no way to conduct an adult relationship.

I might not like what you did, but I suppose I have to... respect your right to do it.

Good.

I would propose a toast to our new spirit of collaboration, but I, um... I've neglected to pour myself a coffee.

Would you mind waiting a moment?

Of course.

(door opens and closes)

Sherlock?

(siren whoops)

No Watson?

She took the morning off.

Something about a cousin falling ill.

Shall we? Yeah.

Jay and Amy Myrose.

Their cleaning lady got here this morning, found them like this.

Preliminary times of death indicate the suspect broke in after midnight, dragged the Myroses out of their beds, forced them to give up the combination to their wall safe, and then...

I, uh... I got to tell you, coming in here this morning was like waking up in the middle of a nightmare that I thought I stopped having a long time ago.

Is that because of the uncanny similarities to the Wade Crewes murders in 1999?

You-you know about that?

I picked up the particulars of these deaths on my scanner app while I was taxiing over here.

Victims' arms bound with pile hitch knots, pillows strapped to their heads using belts shortly before they were k*lled.

Have to admit, the similarities are striking.

Yes, no, no, I know.

I just didn't think you'd know about Wade Crewes.

13 years ago, he perpetrated three separate home invasions over the course of three months.

In every instance, a wealthy couple m*rder*d in the middle of the night.

Contents of their wall safe emptied.

Eventually, he was brought to justice by, uh... you.

Yeah.

Something of a career-defining case.

Mmm. Of course I'm familiar with it.

There.

Always nice when a psychopath grooms himself to look the part, don't you think?

Question is, why copycat a home invader?

You think this is the work of a copycat?

Well, it's either that, or... some kind of weird coincidence.

There is another possibility.

But that depends on what we find in the shoe closet.

HOLMES: I noticed something odd in the old case files.

Two of the safes that Crewes looted were located in bedroom closets.

The other was in an office, but he rifled through the bedroom anyway.

Now, in each case, the woman of the house had a collection of expensive shoes.

And in every case, one of those shoes was missing after the m*rder.

See for yourself.

Why would someone steal one shoe?

Well, that's a fair question.

My guess is the perpetrator wanted a little something to memorialize the occasion.

Something like, perhaps... one high-heeled Jimmy Choo.

Wade Crewes told you that he worked alone when he confessed in 1999.

I think he lied.

I don't believe that we're looking for someone who's copying his work.

I think we're looking for someone who helped him do it.

♪ Elementary 1x07 ♪
One Way to Get Off Original Air Date on November 15, 2012

♪

The chief of detectives just formed a task force on the Myrose murders.

(cell phone ringtone plays - shower scene music from 1960 film Psycho)

Sorry.

GREGSON: Garrity, Ramberg, I'm pulling you in.

I'm gonna detail a few other detectives out of other units.

(buzzing)

Any questions?

All right, then.

Captain, if I might venture a suggestion?

You and I go to Sing Sing, talk to Wade Crewes, hmm?

We now know there's a connection between the old murders and the new ones, and Crewes is the one man who can tell us what it is.

Waste of time. He'd tell you he was partnered with the Taliban if it'd shave time off his sentence.

And we don't know there's a connection.

Oh. The missing high heel.

Don't people lose shoes all the time? Not $1,000 ones.

I-I have to say, you seem strangely reluctant to pursue a promising lead.

Because it's not a lead yet.

It's not an anything yet.

Maybe you'll turn out to be right, but talking to Wade Crewes is not going to get you there.

I promise you.

(cell phone buzzing)

Oh.

Watson, I admire your persistence, but the reception is really... where... am.

Really? 'Cause my phone's working fine.

Four bars and everything.

Let me guess: You want me to wait right here while you get another coffee. Or you could just leave.

Okay, I don't think ditching me is the most constructive approach.

Well, it solved the problem, didn't it?

It's quite simple, Watson.

Stop trying to reach me, and things can go back to the way that they were. You know I'm not gonna do that.

Well, then, welcome to our new arrangement.

Same as the old one, without the goodwill that you'd accrued.

I will obey the letter of our agreement.

I will check in with you every two hours, at which point you can give me whatever drug tests that you want.

My bodily fluids are all at your disposal. That's not how this works...

I'm not finished. Oh, you're not finished.

What is not at your disposal are the details of my personal life, which are uniquely my own, and which I will not cheapen by allowing them to become grist for your tedious recovery mill.

All right, then.

That's that.

I will check in with you in two hours.

Hmm.

Holmes...

Bell's got something.

All right, CCS dug through the Myroses' laptop.

They each got a bunch of threatening e-mails from the same anonymous account.

We traced the IP address to a guy named Julian Walsh.

Guy's a contractor.

The Myroses hired him to remodel their kitchen, and then fired him six weeks later.

They filed a complaint about his work and withheld payment.

And Walsh responded with anonymous threats.

We ran him through the NCIC.

He did time for weapons possession and sexual as*ault.

We're going to go talk to him now.

That's a lead.

BELL: "When you least expect it, I'll be there

"to give you what's yours.

"A pair of pliers and a handful of rusty nails are the only tools I need."

Sound familiar, Mr. Walsh?

Okay, yes, I sent those e-mails.

But that doesn't mean I k*lled anybody.

Well, you talked about k*lling people, and they wound up dead. I'm sure you can follow along.

I don't know what you want me to say.

BELL: Well, listen, we'll be more inclined to believe you if you gave us your whereabouts between 6:00 and midnight last night.

I watched TV, and then I went to bed by 11:00.

I live alone, but that doesn't mean I did anything.

BELL: You understand why we're here, Julian.

The people you threatened in these e-mails are now dead.

JULIAN: Yeah, well...

You with us here? Yep.

I just want to see if the house has a basement.

Walsh has looked at the floor three times since he started talking.

He's clearly nervous.

I bet whatever he's hiding is down there.

Okay, I'll cut this off and get us a warrant.

And give him time to get rid of the evidence?

Mr. Walsh, do you have a lavatory I might use?

Huh? Bathroom.

Yeah, upstairs.

(chain clinks)

(chain links rattling)

(chain links rattling)

Identify yourself.

(whimpering)

(woman says "Please help" in Russian)

What the hell are you doing?

He lied.

When he said that he lived alone.

(whimpers)

Shh.

(Sherlock says "We're police" in Russian)

Arrest him!

GREGSON: Arrest him. Turn to the wall now.

(sobbing)

Shh, shh, shh...

(sobbing)

WATSON: You have to understand, this my nuclear option.

I've never felt the need to go to a client's rehab before.

Yeah, but Mr. Holmes isn't a typical client.

He just won't let me help him.

He's so adamant about being above all that.

Yeah, he does make it difficult to keep one's cool, doesn't he?

Please. Thank you.

I know from his records he spent two hours a day in therapy with you.

Did he ever mention a woman named Irene?

Sherlock Holmes was here for six months, and in that time, he mentioned no women, no men, no names, no dates.

I don't believe I learned a single significant thing about him.

(siren wails)

(woman sobbing, says "And it was worse" in Russian)

(Holmes says "Thank you" in Russian, almost indistinctly)

(woman sobbing)

Her name is Katya.

She came to the U.S. to work as a prost*tute.

Her handlers sold her to Julian Walsh a couple of weeks ago.

She told me that he has been to see her every night since he purchased her.

You can fill in the blanks.

Most evenings, he slept in her room.

Including last night.

Walsh's sex sl*ve is his alibi for the Myrose killings?

I'm afraid it looks that way.

Respectfully, I suggest that we bring everyone on the task force into a comprehensive review of the original files.

Because of the shoe thing?

I'm not diverting an entire task force for a missing high heel.

Four missing high heels, if you count the original crime scene.

You never recovered the original m*rder w*apon, did you?

No, Crewes said he dumped it in the East River.

Well, let's go and see if he was telling the truth.

(siren whoops)

GREGSON: Holmes, what are we doing down here?

Ballistics comparison, hmm?

This is the original report from the original murders.

BELL: You gonna do it by eye?

The human eye is a precision instrument.

It can detect grooves and lands on a slug more efficiently than any computer.

In both of these killings, and in last night's murders, the slugs had the same distinctive dent on the case head.

It was caused by some sort of defect in the g*n's barrel.

The grooves and lands show a steep twist to the left.

See for yourself.

Now, you can wait for the computers to confirm it if you like, but Wade Crewes lied to you about that m*rder w*apon.

He didn't dump it.

And wherever it's been for the last 13 years, it was used last night to k*ll the Myroses.

This is no longer a theory, Captain; this is a fact.

These cases are indelibly linked.

Terry?

What are you doing here?

I figured maybe you could tell me that.

I got a message saying to come here to review the Wade Crewes murders.

I didn't call you.

I did.

Ms. D'Amico was your partner when you investigated the original murders in '99.

Surely it's possible she would help shed some light on the situation.

We know that last night's murders were connected to the ones from 1999.

The way I see it, this can mean one of two things: First is that Wade Crewes had an accomplice that he never told the police about.

For whatever reason, that guy started up again 13 years later.

Second option: Crewes committed the original crimes all by himself, but got someone to do last night's k*lling so he could maybe get his sentence commuted.

There is another possibility: Wade Crewes is innocent, the wrong man is in prison and the original k*ller is back at it.

D'AMICO (laughing): No way.

Crewes did it; he told us he did it.

It wouldn't be the first false confession in the annals of crime, would it? GREGSON: Enough.

This isn't philosophy class.

We don't need to debate every possibility.

Whatever's going on, I guarantee you Crewes is not innocent.

Now, I'm going to go talk to him, see if I can shake his tree, figure out if he's working with somebody.

Garrity, Ramberg, I want you to grab a couple of guys and start digging into some old case files.

Bell, I want you to look into the suspects from '99.

All right? We're done here.

Um, I'd like to go with you to interview Crewes.

Fine. You can observe.

Um, not to pry, but did everything end well with you and Detective D'Amico?

I noticed that you didn't greet each other, you didn't say good-bye...

You just got done dissecting one of my old cases in front of a room full of people.

How about you leave my old partnership alone.

You want insights into Sherlock Holmes?

I'll give you an insight: He's childish and self-absorbed.

He spent nearly every group session in total silence.

He was, bar none, the least cooperative patient I've ever had.

Yeah, I read the same from most of your colleagues.

Who's that?

Oh, the gardener.

Uh, I think his name's E... Edson.

Edison?

Why?

WATSON: Hey, there.

How you doing?

Good.

Hey, is that beekeeping equipment?

Yeah.

Calms them down.

Everyone tells me I probably should just spray the hives with poison, but what can I say? I find them interesting.

This one's getting a little big, though.

Gonna move it out to the woods.

There was a client back here a little while ago, uh, who was also interested in beekeeping.

Sure.

You mean Sherlock.

Yeah. You knew him?

He used to tell me I was the only person in this place without an agenda.

I took that to mean he liked me.

CREWES: I wasn't sure if you and your partner would show up here.

You were expecting us?

Of course.

We get the newspapers in here, Detective.

Oh-- wait a minute.

It's Captain now, isn't it?

I read about last night's murders.

I knew you'd come see me.

Then I'll cut right to the chase: What's the name of the guy you're working with?

I gave up anger a long time ago.

It was one of the only rational responses to the irrational situation my life had become.

But you, standing there, accusing me...

I think that's the perfect test for my progress, isn't it?

What, exactly, do you have to be angry about?

As we both well know, I'm an innocent man.

I spent years thinking about how to prove it, and when I finally gave up the quest, the world decided to prove it for me.

It's like the man says: "The strongest of all warriors are these two: Time and Patience."

Tolstoy's w*r and Peace.

Your file says you were functionally illiterate when you confessed to the murders.

I had plenty of raw intelligence.

What I didn't have were parents or a school system that gave a damn about me.

And my confession, well, I gave that after my Legal Aid lawyer convinced me it was the only way of avoiding a guaranteed life sentence.

He wouldn't take the time to prove my alibi.

GREGSON: Carla Figueroa?

Please.

She recanted the second we asked her to make an official statement.

Well, of course she did! Carla was married!

If she admitted she was with me during the murders, well, that would be the end of that, wouldn't it?

We found your fingerprints at the scene of the third murders in '99, remember?

You mean you put my prints at the scene of the third murders in 1999.

You and I both know that evidence was planted.

Worked out pretty well for you, didn't it, Captain?

I'm not even going to respond to that.

The next time you and I speak to each other, we'll be standing on the courthouse steps, after I'm exonerated of every charge against me.

I know he values his privacy, but there are some things that Sherlock needs to deal with, if he really wants to get better.

Are there?

Can you just tell me-- did he ever mention a woman named Irene?

Can't say he did.

Thank you very much for your time.

The name does sound familiar, though.

He left some things behind-- personal stuff.

I held onto it all, just in case he ever came back for it.

Maybe you can give these back to him.

GREGSON: 1020 31st Avenue, Astoria, Queens.

You want to tell me why we're here?

Last known address of Carla Figueroa.

I thought we could have a quick word with her, see if there's anything to the notion that she recanted Wade Crewes's alibi to save her marriage.

I'm just being thorough.

Go right ahead; I'm just telling you, I'm not gonna be here when you get back.

Why are you so unwilling to even consider the possibility that Crewes is innocent?

Is it pride?

Because I worked the case; you didn't.

That's precisely why my input is so valuable.

We put Crewes away on good evidence.

His fingerprints were all over a mug that got broken, while he was k*lling his last two victims.

The same mug that he accused you of planting.

Now, when he said that, you swallowed twice before responding, like you were trying to clear your throat, hmm?

And when you did answer him, your vocal intonation was markedly different.

Now, if I wasn't watching you, someone I have the highest respect for, I would think that that was the response of someone with something to hide.

It sounds like you think that anyway.

(tapping on car)

My dad's gonna go ape when he sees you guys parked in our driveway.

Just saying.

We're not going to leave the car here; we're with the police.

We need to speak with Carla Figueroa.

Uh, my mom d*ed four years ago.

Leukemia.

Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that.

My dad's inside, if you want to talk to him.

No, no, no. It had to be her.

Uh... thanks.

Sorry to bother you.

HOLMES: Well, if she was lying, her secret d*ed with her.

She wasn't lying.

Oh, Wade Crewes, he put on a good show.

Oh, I'll give him that.

But if you really want to know why I won't waste time trying to find out if Wade Crewes is innocent, watch the tapes.

He held his tongue, but he couldn't help gloating about it.

That's the real Wade Crewes.

(starts engine)

GREGSON (on tape): You were dressed like a house painter.

CREWES (on tape): Eh, doesn't ring a bell.

Maybe I should take a look at those crime scene photos again.

Might jar my memory.

(door opens, shuts)

(footsteps approaching)

Surprised I didn't see you today, Watson.

I sent you a text with my exact location every two hours.

I was busy.

I left some urine in your room.

Tell me it's in a cup.

(video continues indistinctly)

D'AMICO (on tape): Today is April 3, 1999, and the time is 2200 hours.

I'm interviewing Wade Crewes in connection with the deaths of David and Lyla Dawson.

CREWES: So, where do we start?

D'AMICO: How about with the fact that you used to deliver pizzas to the Dawsons back when you were holding down a job?

Is that how you scouted them out?

Black, just like you asked for.

Cheers.

(knocking)

We're putting our differences aside. Come downstairs.

If you need my help, you know I'm game, but if this is some sort of prank...

Watson, I think I've learned something, and if I'm right, it is bigger than any dispute between you and me.

It has a moral component.

You're good with that sort of thing.

In the first interrogation of Wade Crewes, they served him his coffee in a disposable cup.

In the second interrogation, they served it to him in that mug.

Black with a white stripe around the rim.

The second interrogation took place shortly after the second pair of murders.

At the third crime scene, they found physical evidence that implicated Wade Crewes.

A fingerprint on a shattered mug.

Black with a white stripe around the rim.

My God, it's the same mug.

The evidence was planted, and it was Captain Gregson who gave him that mug.

I've been struggling with something.

Oh, good morning to you, too.

Why did you tell me to look at the tape?

Did you honestly think I wouldn't notice?

The mug.

The one that you handed to Wade Crewes during your second interrogation of him.

It's the same one that your men found at the third crime scene.

I want you to understand, I take no pleasure in pursuing this line of inquiry, but I am obliged to pursue the facts, and the facts are you and Detective D'Amico had possession of that mug before it showed up at the third crime scene.

As I said yesterday, I have the utmost respect for you.

If evidence was planted, I'm sure it was the result of frustration.

A mistake that the perpetrator or perpetrators would no doubt wish to take back especially now that it seems possible that Mr. Crewes may well be innocent.

I don't want to...

You know that I will find out the truth and the truth may well be... just compromising.

Every cop gets offered a few perks.

Free lunch here, gym membership there.

I never took a single one, and I sure as hell never planted evidence.

Well, then, could you or your former partner please explain to me how that mug showed up at the crime scene?

Hey.

How'd it go?

Captain Gregson got the warning he deserved.

Now to solve the case.

Hold on, I... I've got something for you.

You've been to Hemdale.

Edson saved them for you.

And were they everything that you hoped, hmm?

Do you understand me now?

I didn't read them.

I was tempted.

They're from Irene; how could I not be?

But whatever happened, this is not how I want to find out about it.

A show of restraint. When...

(sighs)

If you are ready to talk about it, I'd very much like to know, but I'm not going to ask you about it anymore.

I just thought you might want these.

Indeed I do.

Thank you, Watson.

Hey, what are you doing?

I left those at Hemdale because I didn't want them.

I don't understand. Aren't those important?

Remember your promise: no further discussion of this matter until I bring it up.

Fine. Fine.

(Sighs ) You mentioned something about a case that needs solving.

This is Victor Nardin.

He was an early suspect in the '99 home invasions.

He's been in prison for the last 12 years, which could explain why the home invasions miraculously stopped.

He was released three weeks ago, which could explain why they've resumed.

How are the police not looking for this guy?

They are; they just can't find him.

Nardin left his group home on Staten Island two weeks ago and has not checked in with his parole officer.

Those letters are Cyrillic.

Is he in a g*ng or something?

No, rabid football fan.

The tattoos are the names and jersey numbers of famous players from Terek Grozny.

It is Chechnya's premier football club.

And how are they gonna help us find Victor Nardin?

I believe they already have.

Nardin has spent a decade in prison, bereft of his favorite obsession.

Wherever he is, he will want to watch his beloved team.

There aren't that many bars in New York that have a satellite feed of Chechen football.

Three, actually.

All of them in Brighton Beach.

All of them within walking distance of Mayweather Hotel.

"Rooms by the hour, week or month. Cash only."

(American accent): Yeah. I got a delivery for one of your guests. I need a room number.

Victor Nardin.

No Nardin?

Hold... hold on.

Oh, no, no.

I got the wrong name.

Victor Jones.

282. Thank you.

Hey.

What gives?

Tommy, we can't just talk at the precinct?

Not about this.

You planted that mug, didn't you?

Yeah.

We knew it was him, but we couldn't nail him.

So, after the second time you brought him in, you kept that mug just in case.

Good to have a Tr*mp card, huh?

I always assumed you knew that.

I knew it was convenient, piece of evidence to turn up like that.

I chalked it up to our good fortune because I thought we had our guy.

We did.

Well, I was a lot more sure about that then than I am now.

'Cause somebody is out there k*lling people with the same m*rder w*apon, Terry.

What if we were wrong?

If that were true-- and that is still a big "if" as far as I'm concerned-- there are ways around that.

Whoa, I'm not here to plan a cover-up.

If we put an innocent man in jail, I'm not keeping quiet about it.

All right, let's just forget about the fact that I could go to jail.

You worked that task force in '99.

How do you think that's going to play for your career?

I'll be done; doesn't matter.

If I let this happen on my watch, I'm owning up to it.

(phone ringing)

Fair warning, partner.

Mr. Jones?

Mr. Jones, (coughs) you have a message from the front desk.

He's not here.

If I lived here, I wouldn't be here, either.

Um, should I ask why we're not calling the police?

I found the man.

I just... I just want to have a look around.

(groans)

I don't believe it, but this place smells worse than the outside.

Stale cigarette smoke, cheap cologne, a whiff of existential despair.

This floor is sticky.

(sniffing)

Evidently, Mr. Nardin has a drinking problem.

He spills his orange juice.

Ah.

What?

The carpet has come loose from the floorboards here.

It hasn't come loose from age.

Someone has pried this up.

(coughing)

(phone ringing)

Just a minute.

(sighs)

Oh. (chuckles)

Captain.

I need you right away. It's happened again.

A triple this time.

Neighbor spotted the body through a window.

I'll be right there.

And, Captain, I think I might be able to tell you where the m*rder w*apon is.

The homeowners were Michael and Elizabeth Willis.

Everything about their deaths is consistent with the others.

And the third body?

Houseguest, Garret Ames.

I don't think the attacker knew he was here.

After the Willises were sh*t, there was a struggle here, and Ames was trying to get away.

Almost made it, too.

k*ller sh*t him from right here.

(sighs)

Add another three to the tally.

That's all right, Captain.

I know this is difficult.

Well, at least CSU gave us some evidence.

They picked up some cigarette butts from across the street.

Neighbors saw someone smoking.

They're checking the place out.

Hopefully we'll be able to harvest some DNA.

We put a BOLO out for Victor Nardin, and we got a warrant for his hotel room.

If the g*n you saw is the m*rder w*apon, it's beginning to look like an open-and-shut case.

What is it?

You said the k*ller sh*t the houseguest from here.

Yeah? Yeah.

Listen, I know you got your theories about what happened, but I just want you to know that if Wade Crewes is innocent, I'm not going to hide from that.

Yeah. Sorry, Captain, could you just give me a minute?

I'm trying to tell you something important here.

Yes, but I wouldn't fall on my sword just yet.

(phone ringing)

Gregson.

Really?

Yeah?

Okay, yeah.

That was Bell.

Nardin returned to his hotel room.

We've got him in custody.

Excellent.

That should make it easier to confirm that he didn't do this.

I didn't k*ll those people, okay?

Victor Nardin, think fast.

What are you doing?

This man is innocent.

Detective Bell, a word, if you please?

Why'd he hit me?

Hey, stay right there.

Wait, wait, wait. You as*ault our perp with an orange?

And that somehow has you convinced he's innocent?

I was testing a hypothesis I began to form back in Victor Nardin's hotel room.

It was odd.

Everything was out of alignment.

All his toiletries lined up on the left-hand side.

The same was true of his bedside table, his desk.

So he favors his left side. Big deal.

Agreed. Out of context, it's an utterly mundane detail.

But there were these distinctive blue marks on the ceiling above Nardin's bed.

The kind of marks

a racquetball might make if it was thrown repeatedly upwards.

It's a common exercise to strengthen depth perception.

The kind of thing that you might do if you were... Monocular.

You're saying that he was blind in one eye?

In his right eye.

He's learning depth perception.

The man can hardly even pour his orange juice accurately, let alone hit a moving target at 20 feet.

If he's right, it would be hard to pull off.

In the dark, with adrenaline coursing through your system after a fight, I'd say it was impossible.

But... we've got evidence.

The m*rder w*apon, the cigarettes...

The cigarettes were planted, obviously.

You're standing on a street and you want to put out a cigarette, how do you do it? You drop it on the floor.

You stand on it. You flatten it.

The cigarettes that we found at the crime scene had been ground out.

Victor Nardin put them out in an ashtray.

Someone took them from his hotel room, transported them to the crime scene, and they put the g*n beneath the floorboards before they left.

Oh, so now Nardin's been framed, too.

I think that's a fair question.

The only obvious culprit would be the one man who stood to benefit from someone else being implicated in the crimes.

Wade Crewes, working in tandem with someone on the outside.

Someone with whom he shared the location of the m*rder w*apon, the details of the murders in '99.

By law, he has access to his case files.

He could see a list of suspects, pick a man to frame.

You've spent the past 72 hours insisting Crewes is innocent.

I've been insisting that there's a connection.

And I'm right.

The framing of Nardin is the final stroke in a plan that leads to Wade Crewes walking free.

We've got five dead bodies.

Who would be willing to do that for a guy like Crewes?

I have no idea.

Then you've got nothing.

Believe me, no one wants you to be right about this more than me.

All you've done is scare up a bunch of circumstantial evidence that might or might not mean Nardin's been framed by Crewes' mystery partner.

And if you're right, we better identify that partner fast, 'cause if we don't, Nardin's going to eat these charges, and then Crewes walks.

FEMALE REPORTER: The police commissioner declined comment today on the possibility that a pair of violent home invasions may signal the innocence of the notorious Wade Crewes.

According to prison records, Crewes hasn't had a visitor in years.

He hasn't sent a letter, he hasn't received one.

No phone calls, either.

Maybe he's collaborating with an old cellmate?

Doubtful.

Crewes's one and only cellmate is serving life without parole.

Whoever he's working with, he's willing to k*ll for him.

This is no casual acquaintance.

So have we been over all of Crewes's relatives?

Crewes was raised in group homes.

He doesn't even know his own parents.

REPORTER: You seem remarkably calm for someone who claims to have spent 13 years in jail for crimes he didn't commit.

"Things are what they are, and will be what they will be."

Oscar Wilde.

What?

Crewes is quoting Oscar Wilde.

When he went to prison, he was illiterate.

Now he quotes Wilde and Tolstoy.

He's not just reading.

He's reading at an advanced level.

Records.

Someone must have taught him how to read.

There is no record of him taking any classes.

Whoever taught him must have spent quite a bit of time with him.

Lots of chats. Time to plan.

You just said he didn't take a class.

But he did have a job.

A couple of years ago, he signed up to work at the prison library.

You think someone who worked there taught him how to read?

Maybe.

I seem to remember that the library at Sing Sing was on the verge of being shut down a few years ago.

Yes. See?

It only stayed open because a volunteer advocacy group agreed to fund the library and keep it staffed.

"Literacy Initiative for All"-- LIFA.

I've seen those initials recently.

You know him?

He's the son of Carla Figueroa.

The woman Crewes had an affair with.

HOLMES: Sean Figueroa?

Yeah.

You're that guy.

From outside my house, right?

Yeah. Sherlock Holmes.

Consulting detective.

This is Mr. Bell, frequent beneficiary of said consultations.

How can I help you?

You ever wonder why you have such blue eyes, Sean?

You must have.

Both of your parents are of Mexican descent, yet there you are, eyes as blue as the fjords of Norway.

Why do you want to know about my eyes?

Because that's what first led me to believe that Wade Crewes is your father.

I suppose I'm just wondering if that's how you arrived at the same conclusion.

I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm busy, so...

Your mother had a long-standing affair with Crewes.

I suppose, when she fell pregnant with you, it was easy enough to pass you off as your father's son.

But, uh... can't imagine she told you.

You did find out, though.

Otherwise, you wouldn't have begun volunteering at the prison library, where he works.

Huh?

You can lie all you want, Sean.

It'll be easy enough to establish paternity.

Okay.

So what if he is my dad?

How did you find out?

My mom kept a diary.

My dad didn't know where it was hidden, but I did.

After she d*ed, I read the whole thing.

You must have been curious about your real father, yeah.

The notorious k*ller.

So you volunteered.

Probably just observed for a while, then you struck up a relationship.

At some point, you revealed the connection.

And that's when Crewes went to work on you. Yeah?

How long did it take him to seduce you? Hmm?

How long did it take him to talk you into k*lling on his behalf?

I taught him how to read.

That's how it started, yeah.

But there's more than a little bit of your father in you, isn't there, Sean?

Yeah.

Enough for you to m*rder five people.

You must know your father pretty well by now, hmm?

How do you think he's going to respond when my colleagues approach him with a deal to reduce his sentence in exchange for the name of his accomplice?

I'm done with this. How loyal do you think your father's going to be when you're next on the chopping block and he's got freedom at his fingertips?

Hmm?

Is he going to hesitate for even a second before he renounces you?

Will he visit you in prison?

(door buzzes open)

What are those?

Your trophies.

From each of the crime scenes in 1999.

$1,000 shoes.

Your son told us where you hid them.

Same place you stashed that p*stol.

What are you talking about?

I don't have a son.

His name is Sean Figueroa, and he has a quite compelling story.

GREGSON: Five new murders, Wade.

Sean's going away, and you're getting five new conspiracy charges.

No.

You-you framed me.

You bastard, you framed me. Hey, hey, back up!

I'm only in here because of you! Hey, Crewes, that's enough.

You framed me, you bastard! Back in your cell.

You framed me!

Satisfying?

You have no idea.

I'm going to bed.

Good night.

She d*ed.

♪

Irene?

We were quite close.

I did not take her passing well.

Good night.