07x06 - Raw

[bunniefuu]

The following drama contains graphic language. Viewer discretion is advised.

In the criminal justice system, sexually-based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as The Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.

Kick, punch, elbow, knee.

Kick, punch, elbow, knee.

She having a spas att*ck?

No, it's Krav Magoo.

It's Krav Maga.

It's what they teach secret agents for self defense.

Where did you learn it?

My mom.

They do it at her aerobics class.

Elbow, kick, punch!

What happened?

Everybody, inside the school, now!

g*n, run!

No! Make sure just get your heads down.

Far as we know, sh**ter's in the wind.

Kids were hit?

We covered EMS with a balistic blanket, pulled one boy from the play ground.

Alive?

No.

Anyone else?

Two hits.

b*llets made it inside the school, leg wounds on its way to Bellevue.

Here comes the other one.

How is she?

She has W to the left shoulder.

Stopped bleeding with pressure dressing.

Vitals are stable.

All right, I'll with her.

Hi, what's your name?

Annabelle.

Hi, Annabelle.

Did you see who sh**t you?

No.

Did anybody thr*aten you?

Any of your classmates?

No, it hurts.

I know it does, honey, and you are being very brave.

What did I do?

Why did they sh**t me?

I don't know, sweetie.

Law & Order: SVU
7x06. Raw

Original air date: 2005/11/01

How many kids were out there?

42.

It was an hour before school started.

Most of the students hadn't arrived yet.

Where was the sh**ter?

I don't know.

I never saw a g*n.

Have there been any thr*ats?

Recently f*red employees, teachers, disgruntled parents?

We're a public school, so all of the above.

I'm gonna need a list, okay?

We're setting up a family center at the fort Tryon armory.

We'll return the kids to their parents there, but I'm gonna need you to interview them first.

Just tell me everything you remember before the g*nsh*ts, okay?

Did you hear anyone saying angry words?

Where did it sound like the g*nsh*ts came from?

Sidewalk.

The sidewalk?

Did you see anyone on the sidewalk with a g*n?

I didn't see the g*n.

But I know it wasn't anybody on the sidewalk.

Well, okay.

Who was it?

I don't know, but he was in a van.

What was the color of the van?

I didn't see any van.

So what did you see?

Open windows.

From a car?

No, no. Building windows.

Across the street.

Which building?

All of them.

People were sh**ting from all different directions.

So there was more than one sh**ter?

No, just one.

He must've been someone on the playground.

And you're positive you didn't see who sh*t you?

Yes.

Anyone up for good news?

Yeah, I sure am.

X-rays confirm the b*llet completely missed your femur.

You have a little soft tissue damage, but you should be back running marathons in no time.

But I never ran in a marathon.

Well, you will now that is how good we are gonna fix you up.

So you have no ballistic evidence for us?

Clean, through and through.

Your b*llet is still on that playground.

Will you make Jeffrey and Annabelle all better too?

Dr. Beresford was just on his way to check on Annabelle for us now.

How is she?

Still in surgery.

I'll let you know.

Olivia?

I'm right here.

Johnny Mayhew.

Who's that?

He's a boy in my class that gets a lot of timeouts.

What about him?

He has a g*n.

When did you see Johnny with a g*n?

The first day after summer vacation.

He brought it to school in his backpack.

He let me hold it.

A *** s*mia*tomatic is not a toy, Mrs. Mayhew.

I told you never to go near that.

Whoa! You're in enough trouble already.

What'd I do?

This reeks of cleaning oil.

You covering for your son, Ms. Mayhew?

I clean it once a week.

So it won't jam if I ever need to use it.

Safety isn't on, no lock on the drawer.

I guess a child lock is out of the question, huh?

You got a permit for that?

It was a gift from my brother.

And you never registered it?

I was supposed to?

Mrs. Mayhew, we're gonna have to charge you with possession of a w*apon and endangering the welfare of a child.

Get outta here.

And a tech needs to run a g*nsh*t residue test on Johnny.

Why? He hadn't even left the house yet.

There is no way my Johnny sh*t those kids.

P.S. 74

503 WEST 160TH STREET MONDAY, OCTOBER 3

A teacher came in early to grade some math tests.

Was she in here during the sh**ting?

Had just gone to the lounge for coffee.

A stray round came through this open window, pierced the map right there.

Well, it looks like he took out Tulsa.

Probably unintentional.

And finally came to rest... right here.

What c*liber was the a*mo?

Well, they're all too m*nled to tell but, this one did give us two points of contact.

The desk... and the map, which allows us to ascertain the exact line of f*re.

My left or your left?

Your left.

The sh**ter picked them off from right here.

Got something.

Cozy little sn*per's nest.

Perfect location.

Complete with a little hiding place.

What'd he leave us?

It looks like he was smart enough to pick up his brass.

But remember that line, "leave the g*n, take the cannoli"?

That explains why no one saw a w*apon afterwards.

Folding stock, bolt action, internal magazine.

High-powered scope and a flash suppressor.

I think we can rule out little Johnny Mayhew.

This is a precision sn*per r*fle.

Kind you use with a specific t*rget in mind.

Which kid was he g*nning for?

BELLEVUE HOSPITAL RECOVERY ROOM MONDAY, OCTOBER 3

Can you think of any reason that somebody may have t*rgeted your daughter?

Of course not.

What reason could anybody have to sh**t a 6-year-old?

What about you? Have you had any thr*ats? Any recent disputes?

No. We just moved here from Denver last month.

We hardly know anyone.

Detective, you wanted to be told.

The boy who didn't make it, his mother just got here.

Mrs. Whitlock.

I'm detective Benson.

Uh, yes, I got a message that my son Jeffrey was hurt at school, and to come here.

Is, is he okay?

I don't understand why they won't let me see him.

No one's talked to you.

No. What, what happened?

Where, where is he?

You know what, why don't we have a seat right over here, okay?

No, no, no, I, I need to be with my son.

My husband can't have his cell phone on at work and, only I guess that's what we gave the emergency contact number to the school, and he, he picked it up on break, and he left a message for me at home that I, that I, that I should meet him here, but he, he didn't...

Mrs. Whitlock.

I'm so sorry.

Please... don't...

There was a sh**ting at the school.

Your son didn't make it.

Oh, god!

My husband's here.

I don't know how I'm gonna tell him.

You're a corrections officer?

Rikers.

Oh, god...

Your son Jeffrey was...

Adopted. a year ago.

We couldn't get pregnant.

They said the wait list to adopt was years.

Unless you happened to be rich.

Which we're not.

And then we found out there were 20,000 kids in foster care.

Just in New York city.

They said 5,000 were legally free to adopt, immediately.

Jeffrey was in the harder-to-place older group.

Kids over seven.

Mark works at Rikers.

Every day he has to deal with the end results of ruined childhoods.

Circle of vi*lence.

We thought we were saving him.

Mr. Whitlock, we have to consider an inmate at Rikers with a grudge.

We house 17,000 cons there.

Anybody stick out?

I've been spit at, swung at.

I had food, urine, even feces thrown at me.

I've had my share of thr*ats, but so has every guard there.

How could they know who Jeffrey was?

Why take it out on him?

He was so sweet.

I can't believe he's gone.

You're all going to be reunited with your children.

The counselors are available inside.

So please, let your kids talk to them.

Mommy, mommy.

Maddy, thanks for your help, darling.

Captain, I think that's about it.

Kids give you anything?

Yeah, about 40 different versions about what happened.

Well, eyewitness accounts are bad enough with adults, what'd you expect from kids?

Wild imaginations, high suggestibility, and difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality.

That's pretty much what I got.

Well, we got a dad of the one fatality who's a corrections officer at Rikers.

Really?

No! I don't want to go home!

Maddy, come on.

Come on, honey.

I interviewed her, nothing.

Well, we'd better re-interview her.

Come on.

Maddy, where do you live?

In an apartment.

Does anyone live in the apartment with you?

Yes.

Who?

My mom.

Anyone else?

No.

Maddy, is anyone ever... mean to you?

Yes.

Who?

I promised not to tell.

What would happen if you told?

He has a giant g*n, as tall as me, and he said if I told, he'd sh**t my mom and all my friends.

Maddy, who is he?

If I go home, he'll sh**t me too, because he'll think I told.

But I swear I didn't tell.

What does he do to hurt you?

He makes me pull down my pants.

Please don't let him sh**t my mom.

We won't let him hurt anybody else.

But you gotta tell me who he is first, okay?

Maddy.

Who is he?

Mr. Bugeyes.

She means Mr. Buggesi.

She has trouble pronouncing his name.

And who's Mr. Buggesi?

He's an elderly gentleman in our building.

Retired, he's very friendly.

How often is Maddy alone with him?

Did he do something to her?

Well, we just need to speak with him.

Maddy gets out of school at 3, but I don't get off work until 5:00.

He says he likes to keep himself useful.

He watches her for free.

Which apartment is he in?

Mr. Buggesi?

Mr. Buggesi, open the door!

You r#ped your last little girl, you rancid bag of p#ss!

Hey! Hey!

All right, enough, enough, enough, enough!

Let go!

Get over here. Get over here.

Get over here. Get over here.

Hands against the wall.

Hands against the wall.

He's unconscious.

Who are you?

SVU portable to central.

I need a bus for an aided prisoner at 54th and 2nd.

Apartment 4C as in Charlie.

10-4, bus is on the way.

Patrick McCorkle.

Any relation to Maddy?

My niece.

Looks like Mrs. McCorkle gave Patrick here the heads-up.

Now, look, I understand you're very angry.

I don't think you do.

We're still arresting you.

Fine.

Just put us in the same cell.

Buggesi say anything to you before you scrambled his brains?

He said he was sorry.

That he was born with unnatural urges, he couldn't control himself.

Look at this.

That's what he threatened her with?

It's an air p*llet r*fle.

A toy.

Looks as real as a sn*per r*fle.

Especially to a 7-year-old.

Yeah, except this one didn't take out three kids on that playground.

It doesn't rule out Buggesi as the sh**ter.

People can own more than one g*n.

Buggesi was sitting in a dentist's chair at the time of the sh**ting.

Maddy's uncle b*at him almost to d*ath.

Are we even sure he's a molester?

There's an open warrant on him from Florida.

They'll extradite, we won't get a cr*ck at him until they're done.

What about the w*apon Munch found on the roof? Any prints?

No.

But the serial number's intact.

John, where are we with the g*n trace?

On a cross-country tour.

It was lovingly manufactured in Sturgis, South Dakota.

Made its way to a wholesale distributor in Brainerd, Minnesota.

Who then shipped it to a whimsically named little shop called "g*n ho!" On Staten island.

When?

Less that a month ago.

g*n ho! sold it last Thursday.

We have a legal purchase?

Complete with loophole.

It's a long g*n, so no background checks are required.

Cash sale.

Of course.

Buyer's signature on the affidavit?

Yeah, but it's illegible.

And I guarantee you, it is bogus.

Okay, well, looks like, uh, "S. Brockwull" or, uh, "Rockwell."

First initial could be "G"?

Who made the sale?

The owner of g*n ho!

His name is...

Brian Ackerman.

Well, he did a pretty half-assed job.

He didn't get a clear signature or a full first name.

Let's go talk to Mr. Ackerman.

g*n HO!

STATEN ISLAND, NEW YORK TUESDAY, OCTOBER 4

Anybody in there?

Hello?

I'm sorry.

We're closed.

What is this regarding, please?

A little young to be working in a g*n store, aren't you?

I'm 16, sir.

My dad's the owner.

What's your name?

Kyle Ackerman.

Your dad leaves you here all alone?

Yeah, I sweep up as part of my allowance.

Kyle, you need to open this door.

Excuse me.

Do you have a warrant?

For what? We're investigating the string of burglaries your dad had.

What?

We thought we'd check the security system.

Can you come back tomorrow?

You know, I don't feel comfortable leaving a kid alone with all these w*apons and a*mo.

I've been around g*ns all my life.

You can't be back there, sir.

Just want to check your security, make sure your dad doesn't lose any more inventory.

We haven't had a burglary in six months.

I thought you said there was no one else here.

It's none of your business.

Could be our burglar.

No, it's not.

Hey, look, I'm serious!

You cannot go down there!

D#mn, there's something you don't see every day.

So what the hell do you do here, huh?

Exercise our First amendment right to free speech.

"The reason the Jews made up the holocaust."

I'm sorry, Star.

Jew?

Hey, excuse me.

Are you this boy's mother?

I'm a friend of the family.

What's your business here?

We're investigating the sh**ting at P.S 74.

What about it?

An African-American boy was m*rder*d.

With a r*fle purchased right upstairs.

You mean that d*ad little jungle bunny?

She's all torn up about it.

Hey, you can't do that.

This is not a police state.

You are destroying private property and you're trespassing.

Well, we were just leaving.

You mind coming along with us?

I'm not going anywhere with you, kike.

Assaulting a police officer.

Well, now you're guaranteed a ride with us.

Oh, like hell I am.

I don't recognize the authority of the puppets of the zionist occupied government.

Kyle, we have rights.

You call your daddy on your cell phone, tell him that I am being taken political prisoner.

Clean up all the crime in Jew York city?

Or are you just afraid to do the job you're actually paid for?

Chasing down g*ng-banging, cr*ck-smoking k*ller sp*cs and c**ns.

So you know, I'm employed here.

Affirmative action, hard at work, ladies and gentlemen.

Right this way, son.

Wait, wait! well, now, wait a minute.

You can't separate us.

I demand to act as his guardian and be present when you interrogate him.

Sweetheart, he's not under arrest.

We're only gonna let him stay here till his old man comes and picks him up.

Do not tell them anything, Star.

You wait until my father gets here.

He'll know exactly what to do.

Don't you worry, honey.

Of course he's gonna know what to do.

He's gonna sue your ass.

I hope you've got yourself a really good shyster Jew lawyer.

White s*premacist, huh?

What's that about?

Racial purity.

There's no law against it.

But there is against hate crimes.

Now, somebody plastered your stickers all over synagogues in three different boroughs recently.

I distribute information relating to my group's ideologies as permitted by the First amendment.

I didn't do that.

Well, what exactly do you do, Star?

I help out a friend whose philosophies I happen to embrace.

Brian Ackerman owns a g*n store.

And he leads a hate group.

That's an interesting combination.

You two neo-N#zis ever run into a guy named "Racool," "Rockwall"?

No. Who's he?

He's the man or the woman who sh*t up P.S. 74.

At first we couldn't see a connection between the victims.

We got Jeffrey Whitlock, who's African-American.

Danny Kohler, who's white, but Jewish.

And Annabelle Paoletti, of ltalian descent.

With dark eyes, dark hair.

You make a mistake on that one?

Well, it must've been, because she is just too pretty to be Jewish.

Did you see your sh**ter?

You tell us.

I had nothing to do with this.

Well, the g*n that Rockwell used, it came from the store that you work at.

I just go downstairs, help out a little bit after hours. I don't work there.

Printing up your love notes.

Mailing out the orders.

They come in faster than Brian can handle.

Brian's got a mail-order business.

On his website.

It's very, very popular.

You should check it out sometime.

Blitzkriegwarriors.Org "The official site of raw.

Revolutionaryan warriors."

Hate groups just love the internet.

Well, it links the idiots together, lets them rant.

And exchange hate tactics.

Ten years ago, there was one website advocating racial hatred.

Last number I heard was nearing 500.

Maybe on the internet, but in New York city?

Well, they're everywhere.

On and off the web.

Watch groups have identified 21 separate hate groups operating in New York state.

Click on blitzkriegkids.

Blitzkriegkids...

Kyle Ackerman has his own site.

h*tler youth are alive and well.

What does his page offer?

Keep running, Jew!

Keep running!

The game's called Final solution.

Players get to be a cyber-clansman or a skinhead g*ng member.

Chase minorities around a virtual urban landscape.

Little webmaster-racemeister, huh?

I have the current high score.

What the hell is JFK reloaded?

Trust me, you don't want to go there.

They're just games.

There are plenty of games where white men get k*lled, but obviously your kind has no problem with that.

My kind?

You mean cops?

N#ggers.

So you'd he happy if somebody exterminated the two of us and everybody that looks like us?

Of course not.

Raw doesn't advocate vi*lence.

We leave that to the savages.

We all know who those are.

You never had a chance, did you?

What?

Your father's been filling your head with hate since you were a baby.

I actually feel sorry for you.

Oh, don't.

I was lucky to be born a caucasian.

You were the one who drew the genetic short straw.

You know, scientists have discovered there's really no genetic difference between the races.

It's only skin-deep.

Jews? Are the descendants of the union between Eve and Satan.

And who do you think spawned you?

Kyle!

I need someone to help me right now.

Preferably someone who speaks English with an I.Q. above 60.

The father.

Hello! Who's in charge of this cesspool?

That would be me, Mr. Ackerman.

Really?

I didn't think they allowed white males in positions of power anymore.

Unless, of course, you're h#mosexual.

You know, your rant is even funnier in person than it is on your website.

Ah, yeah, the requisite tuna feminist.

Why don't you stay out of this one, Hillary?

What have you done with my son?

Don't worry, his mind is just as warped as you left it.

Kyle!

Dad.

I'd like you two to repeat what you said about my father to his face.

Cowards.

I understand you home-school this boy.

You afraid to expose him to the truth?

My father's a brilliant teacher.

He doesn't dumb down the lessons for minorities like they do in public school.

Or distort history to mollify them.

Sweetheart.

He's completely brainwashed you.

You're the idiot embracing the lies.

Sorry I let you down, sir.

I should never have allowed them to breach the perimeter.

We'll talk about this at home.

Let's go.

Before you go, you need to describe the person you sold the sn*per r*fle to.

Well, I sell dozens of g*ns every day.

I don't remember faces.

Or to follow minimal sales requirements.

Apparently you've forgotten the Second amendment.

It's not my job to interfere with an individual's right to bear a*ms.

Let's go, Kyle.

Uh, what about Star?

Ms. Morrison a**aulted an officer.

She's still being questioned.

Okay, go wait in the car.

Your detectives entered my property without a warrant, without probable cause...

Eliot.

They made false arrests, they violated my son and Ms. Morrison's constitutional rights...

Detective Stabler, is this true?

No, sir.

After his son Kyle allowed us to be on the property, exigent circumstances led us into the basement, where a person we believed to be an intruder a**aulted detective Munch.

Liar.

Paranoid?

I'm not gonna stand here and be insulted.

What, you gotta get back to your holocaust denial budd*es, cook up some more conspiracy theories?

I'm an academic.

I address historical inaccuracies on my website, sir.

Well, while we're clearing up inaccuracies, this is the g*n purchase affidavit that you were kind enough to fax over to us earlier.

Yes, I believe everything is in order.

Well, maybe you could help us decipher this signature here, "G. Rockwell."

Now, could that be George Lincoln Rockwell, founder of the American N*zi party?

I don't see how it could be, sir, because he was assassinated back in '67.

Was the man who bought the r*fle a member of your group, Mr. Ackerman?

No, I've never seen him before, sir.

Describe him.

I believe he was African-American.

That is still the current P.C. phrase, isn't it?

I, I don't know, it just changes so often, I can't keep up.

Officer Taylor.

What?

This is Mr. Ackerman.

He's the leader of the revolutionaryan warriors.

Escort him out of here, please.

My pleasure.

This way, Mr. Ackerman.

Get your hands off me, thank you.

Crime lab pulled DNA off the padding on the r*fle scope.

The sh**ter was sweating, gave us a hit on the DNA database.

It's a convicted felon named Brannon Lee Redding.

Police!

Go, go, go!

Don't move!

Up against the wall!

Is there a problem, officer?

Clear!

Clear!

Lovely place you have here, Brannon.

Thanks. I try to keep it nice.

There's no coloreds allowed!

"Rahowa." What's that?

Acronym. Racial holy w*r.

Mein kampf. I see you're not a member of oprah's book club.

Are those beer bottle caps?

Pretty cool, huh?

The fat skinhead's not as dumb as he looks.

Lawyered up the second we sat down.

We don't get to talk to him.

Munch and Fin said he was pretty vocal on the ride over.

With r*cist epithets, not a confession.

Do we need one? We've got his DNA on the m*rder w*apon.

Which he now claims was stolen.

Pretty big coincidence that the thief would then sh**t the son of his corrections officer.

Well, the crap a jury will swallow boggles the mind.

What's the timeline on the g*n?

Well, Redding was released from Rikers Friday before last.

Then he bought the r*fle the following Thursday from his fellow white s*premacist Brian Ackerman.

School sh**ting went down four days later.

Do we think that Ackerman was in on it?

Well, they're in lock step ideologically, but that's the only connection we have so far.

Ackerman never even visited Rikers.

What was Brannon in for?

as*ault and battery on an ethiopian cab driver.

Detective Benson.

Father of the d*ad boy.

Mr. Whitlock.

I heard you found the guy.

That true?

We think so.

Did he say anything?

Why he did it?

No, we were hoping that you could fill in the motive.

Sir, did you ever have any altercations with this man at Rikers?

Never.

Brannon Lee Redding.

He wasn't even on my block.

What did you have against this corrections officer?

Nothing. He looks like a nice guy.

You k*lled his son.

How did you know which kid on that playground was his?

How'd I k*ll anybody?

My g*n was stolen.

One in 35 million.

Now, those are the odds against it being anyone else's DNA on that r*fle.

Damn, I hope this Jew lawyer they gave me can figure a way around that.

Heshy, have you informed your client that if you take this to trial, he will be judged by a jury of his peers?

Other skinheads. Great.

No, your human peers.

It's a lovely, racially diverse group.

What are you offering, Casey?

You first.

What does your client have to offer?

Just my undying love and affection.

We'd make pretty white babies together, don't you think?

Who else was involved, Brannon?

Nobody.

Are you a member of revolutionaryan warriors, also knows as Raw?

No. But where do I sign up?

How about in your jail cell at Rikers during the year you await trial?

Don't play cute, Casey.

No one's gonna put him in the same prison where the alleged victim's father works.

What, you don't think word'll travel?

It'll be fun.

You cowering in your cell 24/7.

Afraid to go to chow, not knowing if someone put ground glass in your food?

Okay. Protective custody, 25 to life.

All counts to be served concurrently.

TRIAL PART 40

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 26

Now, before we begin, let's just make sure that everyone is familiar with the rules of my courtroom.

I have a zero tolerance policy for shenanigans.

I appreciate that emotions are running high.

But you must control them if you wish to remain.

That means no outbursts and no foul language.

Capiche, Mr. Redding?

Yes, your honor.

I understand you want to change the plea you made at arraignment?

Yeah, I want to plead guilty.

Please stand.

You may now allocute.

Describe your crime for the court.

Uh, I sh*t the two Jew kids and the porch monkey.

May you burn in hell, you r*cist pig!

Order!

Madam, sit down or I'll have you removed.

And as for you, Mr. Redding, I am rejecting your plea offer.

But your honor, there's a deal in place.

My courtroom, my decision, Mr. Horowitz.

And I find this deal reprehensible.

You should be ashamed of yourself for agreeing to it, Ms. Novak.

I apologize.

A blatant hate crime, countless children traumatized.

Two of them maimed.

And one precious young life snuffed out.

What does your honor recommend?

Two options, Mr. Redding.

Withdraw the plea and take your chances at trial.

Or accept the current offer of 25 to life for each count.

But to be served consecutively, not concurrently, as so egregiously suggested.

If you should choose to go to trial and are found guilty, I will show no leniency.

Your parole officer's parents haven't even been born yet.

No. No way in hell.

I want the deal I was promised.

Court officers, remove the prisoner.

Yeah, screw you, old man!

Rahowa!

Rahowa!

Rahowa!

Order!

Rahowa!

Have you been brainwashed by the Jew-controlled media?

Silence!

Or are you just another corrupt lackey of the zionist occupied government?

Remove that woman.

White power.

The fine for contempt of my court is $500, young lady.

What are you gonna do?

You gonna criminalize the First amendment?

You've just made it $1,000.

Court officers, lock her up.

Free the political prisoner!

That's 1,500.

Keep counting, Mr. Judge.

I want a deal, you bitch.

Brannon, I can't talk to you without your attorney present.

Where is he?

Jewey Jewstein sold me down the river.

Screw him.

Heshy didn't have anything to do with judge Schukyler's decision.

Let's just work this out between us whites.

For this meeting only, I waive my right to counsel. How's that?

As long as you don't jerk me around with any more lies this time.

When did I ever lie to you?

You told me that you didn't have any ties to the group Raw.

I don't.

They seem to be all warm and fuzzy for you.

You purchased the m*rder w*apon from their leader, Brian Ackerman, and his number one groupie Star Morrison is sitting in a jail cell on contempt charges for protesting your treatment in court.

I didn't buy that r*fle.

Ackerman gave it to me.

Why would he do that?

He conned me into doing the sh**ting.

And Star's involvement?

You think I was dumb enough to talk about business in front of some slash?

She walked in when I was leaving.

She's his old lady.

Who knows what they talk about in bed?

I thought you went for the nice, clean-cut N*zi types, Star.

What brought you to the skinhead's hearing?

Curiosity.

Ackerman send you to keep tabs on him?

Make sure he didn't name names?

I only went to support a fellow white man.

I figured you would probably renig on your deal.

I'll tell you what.

When he realized he wasn't seeing the light of day again, your boy Brannon's white pride just flew right out that window.

I've never seen anybody flip so fast.

What'd he tell you?

All about the alliance between the skinheads and your group Raw.

That's news to me.

It shouldn't be. Brannon says you were there when Ackerman gave him the g*n.

Sold him the g*n.

They weren't friends.

Well, they were friendly enough for Brannon to confide he'd just gotten out of Rikers.

And Ackerman telling him that your group tracks race traitors, and there was a white guard there by the name of Mark Whitlock, who'd adopted a black boy.

This is a prisoner who has a score to settle against a guard.

We went through the reports.

Brannon wasn't involved in any altercations with Whitlock.

Raw prides itself on, on self-control and discipline.

Ackerman would never get in bed with the skinheads over something like this.

He got a hold of the boy's school picture for him.

And he gave him the m*rder w*apon.

You're being played.

Whatever.

Conspiracy. m*rder two.

Our ADA will be calling you to be a witness against Ackerman.

I can't testify.

I understand you're scared.

I can take care of myself.

We'll offer you protection.

There's no way in hell I'm gonna testify.

I subpoenaed Star Morrison.

Wouldn't lay odds on her showing up.

She corroborates the meeting between Brannon and Ackerman.

If she doesn't testify, she goes right back in her cell on her second contempt of court charge.

Casey. Did you get my notice of appearance?

I'm taking over representation for Brian Ackerman.

How'd you let that piece of garbage con you, Barry?

It's not a First amendment case.

It is. If you're only going after him because you don't like the things he has to say.

Have you had a conversation with him?

Yes, and I find every word he spews morally repugnant.

But his speech, despicable as it may be, doesn't entitle anyone to trample all over his constitutional rights, now, does it?

TRIAL PART 40

THURDSAY, OCTOBER 27

Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

I do.

State your name.

I plead the Fifth.

Ms. Morrison, it's just your name.

I invoke my right against self-incrimination as afforded me by the Fifth amendment of the U.S. Constitution.

Ms. Novak, are the people prepared to offer this witness immunity?

We already have, your honor.

Ms. Morrison, I understand that you have been granted immunity.

I plead the Fifth.

This witness is dismissed.

Your honor, could I please request a brief recess?

Call your next witness, Ms. Novak.

The people call Brannon Lee Redding.

Sidebar.

Approach.

You have a problem with this witness, Mr. Moredock?

I have many problems with this witness, your honor.

First and foremost that as a co-conspirator, his testimony must be corroborated.

Your honor, we have produced physical evidence to corroborate his testimony.

You're referring to the d*ad boy's school picture with...

Go to his website, Barry.

Click to the page on race traitors.

Mr. Moredock, I'm allowing this witness.

Your honor...

Step back, Mr. Moredock, I've made my ruling.

It's a bad ruling.

Mr. Moredock.

You're allowing your personal beliefs to, uh, to cloud your legal judgment.

You are perilously close to contempt, sir.

I'm just trying to protect my client's rights, your honor.

In this country, even neo-N#zis have them.

They have the right to assemble, the right to free speech.

And as much as it just k*lls you two, the right to a fair trial.

You will have a chance to present your case.

Call the next witness, Ms. Novak.

Mr. Redding, when did you first meet the defendant Brian Ackerman?

About a week after I got out.

And what happened at that meeting?

He sees my tattoos, finds out I just got out of Rikers.

Starts trying to bait me.

How?

Says skinheads are all talk.

Says his group's more organized.

Says, "I got a whole list of t*rgets."

And there should be one I'm especially interested in.

And what t*rget was that?

The adopted sambo of some white Rikers security guard.

He gave me his home and school address.

He even gave me his school picture.

Race traitor!

Kyle!

Court officers! Court officers!

Kyle!

Drop it!

Kyle, you're not getting out of here.

We all have to make sacrifices.

Drop your w*apon!

Federal agent.

Drop it!

Hold your f*re!

Federal agent.

Federal agent, don't sh**t.

Kyle? Kyle BELLEVUE HOSPITAL RECOVERY ROOM THURSDAY, OCTOBER 27

FBI? I can't believe you're a fed.

You can understand now why I couldn't testify.

Yeah, you would've committed perjury just by stating your name.

Which is...

Dana Lewis.

Detective Munch, I apologize for everything I had to say.

You have no idea how reprehensible I find those words.

But I had to maintain my cover.

How long were you under?

I infiltrated about five months ago and worked my way up the ranks.

Here comes your partner.

Excuse me and you take care.

Detective Tutuola, I want to apologize to you for...

We're good.

All right. Take care.

So where is it you got sh*t?

That would be in the ass.

You want to kiss it and make it better?

You be nice to me or you won't get the shake I smuggled in for you.

Fig? From McClinty's?

Of course.

Oh, thanks, man.

Thank you for not making me have to break in another partner.

I'm glad you pulled through, bro.

Did anyone call Kathy yet?

No. Don't.

Eliot.

Don't be like that...

She started divorce proceedings.

When?

A couple weeks ago.

I have the papers at home, I just haven't signed them yet.

How'd they get the g*ns in?

Uh, Christopher Rawlings was the adult sh**ter.

He's a member of Raw, he had a fake badge and I.D.

Don't have to go through the metal detector.

They waved him right around.

Handed off the g*n to Kyle Ackerman.

Any casualties?

One of the court officers is still touch and go.

The other one didn't make it.

And, uh... neither did judge Schukyler.

You talk with Brian Ackerman?

He said that he was proud that his son Kyle d*ed a hero.

Fighting for his race.

Hey, Ms. Benson.

Our sting went down.

What'd you get?

Two prime t*rgets purchasing about 50 pounds of a*monium nitrate, urea, and a bunch of other fixin's for a b*mb.

It's an exact replica of the one McVeigh used in Oklahoma city.

What was the t*rget?

We don't know.

Well, at least you got them.

You're gonna like this.

During the subsequent raid, we found some information at may be pertinent to your case.

WHITLOCK RESIDENCE

462 WEST 163RD STREET FRIDAY, OCTOBER 28

There are no pictures of Jeffrey.

Jana's had a hard time dealing with his d*ath.

Counselor recommended removing all reminders.

She must've kept some little keepsake.

A school project, a favorite toy?

What is this about?

This is about just how precious your son was to you.

According to the two insurance policies that you took out on him, Jeffrey was worth exactly $750,000.

What?

A bit excessive. Don't you think?

I mean, considering that the average life insurance policy on a child is only $50,000.

It's what our insurance broker recommended.

And you had no problem paying the $350 a month premium?

I think you would.

Seeing as how you filed for bankruptcy only two years ago.

You don't have to rich to give a child a home.

You filed the insurance claim five days after Jeffrey d*ed.

You couldn't wait, could you?

This is insane.

These were obtained from an FBI raid of a skinhead t*rr*rist group.

You were mentioned by name, Mr. Whitlock.

It shows the amount that you pledged them... from a future insurance payment.

Somebody's setting me up.

One-third of $750,000.

How would they know the exact amount of your combined policies?

Brannon didn't get your son's picture from Ackerman.

You're the one who provided them with Jeffrey's school picture.

You two adopted this beautiful child just to k*ll him, didn't you?

You don't understand.

People must've been surprised that knew you.

Two r*cists like you adopting a little black boy?

We're not racists.

We just needed the money.